MASTER 
NEGA  TIVE 
NO.  92-80547 


MICROFILMED  1992 
COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES/NEW  YORK 


as  part  of  the  ^ 

"Foundations  of  Western  Civilization  Preservation  Project 


Funded  by  the 
NATIONAL  ENDOWMENT  FOR  THE  HUMANITIES 


Reproductions  may  not  be  made  without  permission  from 

Columbia  University  Library 


COPYRIGHT  STATEMENT 

The  copyright  law  of  the  United  States  -  Title  17,  United 
States  Code  ~  concerns  the  making  of  photocopies  or  other 
reproductions  of  copyrighted  material... 

Columbia  University  Library  reserves  the  right  to  refuse  to 
accept  a  copy  order  if,  in  its  judgement,  fulfillment  of  the  order 
would  involve  violation  of  the  copyright  law. 


AUTHOR: 


TAGORE, 

RABINDRANATH 


TITLE: 


SADHANA;  THE 

REALISATION  OF  LIFE 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


1916 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negative  # 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARGET 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


I  Philosophy 

ID890 


T123 


I 


Tagorc,  Sir  Rabindranath,  18G1-1941. 

Sadhana;  the  realisation  of  life,  by  Eabindranath  Tagore. 
New  York,  The  Macmillan  company,  1916. 

4  p.  1..  vll-xl.  1G4  p.     front.  ( port. )     20i'-. 

Hnlf-title:  Holpiir  edition. 

Title-page  in  colors,  ornamental  border. 

-These  papers  embody  in  a  connected  form  ...  Ideas  ^^ich  have  been 
cullPd  from  several  of  the  Benpall  discourses  which  I  am  in  the  habit  of 
giving  to  my  students  in  my  school  at  Bolpur  in  Bengal.  —Author  s  pref. 

Contents.— The  relation  of  the  Individual  to  the  "n»verse.--Soul  con- 
gciousnoss— The  problom  of  evil.— The  problem  of  self.— Realisation  In 
lovo.— Hpnllsntlnn  In  action.— The  realisation  of  beauty.— The  realisation 
of  the  infinite. 

D892.32T12  I  (^Ry  in  Barnard.   1916. 

^r  ^'  17-3923  Revised 

Library  of  Congress  PRC039.A2    1016 

jr44c2j 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DATA 


REDUCTION     RATIO: JJ"^, 


FILM     SIZE: SS^/vr^ 

IMAGE  PLACEMENT:    lA  C^)  IB     IIB 

DATE     FILMED: y/J^:2-_ INITIALS 2^_. 

HLMEDBY:    RESEARCH  PUBLICATIONS.  INC  WOODBRIDGE,  CT 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  IRREGULARITIES 


MAIN  r>  ,  ij 


Riblioeraphir  IrregularJHps  in  the  Orif  inal  Documem 
list  volumes  and  pages  affected;  include  name  of  institution  if  filnung  borrowed  text. 

Page(s)  missing/ not  available: 


.Volumes(s)  missing /not  available: 


.Illegible  and /or  damaged  page(s):. 


.Page(s)  or  volumes(s)  misnumbered:. 


Bound  out  of  sequence:. 


Page(s)  or  illustration(s)  filmed  from  copy  borrowed  from:_Baimv^ 
I'M . 


Other: 


FILMED  IN  WHOLE 
OR  PART  FROM  A 

COPY  BORROWED 
FROM  BARNARD 

COLLEGE 


c 


Association  for  information  and  Image  Management 

1100  Wayne  Avenue,  Suite  1100 
Silver  Spring,  Maryland  20910 

301/587-8202 


Centimeter 

12         3        4 


II 


m 


TTT 


5         6 

iliiiiliiiiliiii 


7        8 

iiliiiiliiiilin 


TTTTJ 


I   II  I  II   I  I 


iiiiiiiiiiiin 


10       11 

iiiliiiiliiiili 


12       13 


ITT 


||||||j||llllUIII 


14       15    mm 

iiiiliiiiliiii 


T 


Inches 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


til      2.8 

2.5 

y£ 

^0        3.2 

2.2 

■  63 

?,0 

II£        P^E= 

l;;. 

1-    ^ 

tmk^l~ 

1.8 

1.4 

1.6 

MRNUFfiCTURED  TO  RUM  STRNDRRDS 

BY  RPPLIED  IMRGEf  INC.    \ 

% 

\ 


-^«.; 


b'^^- 


.  ^=•'=t;^      «.iJU«'  -•» 


^''^Vs^-^'^^^s^ 


ttS'- 


i$Ti^ 


M* 


•T  ?>^*7*Td^j 


^i' 


*¥■,  ;    -^ 


iMd' 


^'^wy  -A 


"K 


1    m-Vt     JTi? 


^5^  ^-  e. 


-•*:• 


;»\ 


-  <!.¥'-•- 


HSi 


te^'^ 


->*^t 


fcsii*' 


lj^^\ 


■  ^^»«Sltefs% 


s^^ 


w 


Columbia  ®nit)f  rs(itj> 

mtljriCitpofHrttigork 

THE  LIBRARIES 


/♦ 


LIBRARY  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


I 


■T»^^^ 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

HEW  YORK   •  BOSTON  •   CHICAGO   •  DALLAS 
ATLANTA   •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Liuiteo 

LONDON   •  BOICBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMHXAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


TWM 


B    O    1-    P    U    U 
EDITION 


-i^'^^^S;;^ 


•he^)<^o 


THK  MACMILLAN  CoMFWNY 

NEW  V>)KK    •    BOSTON        CHICAGO 
ATLANTA   •    SAN    FKANCISCO 

MACMILI.AX  S:  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON    •    HoMrw        CALCrTTA 

MEl  l.i.lKNE 

THE  MACMILLAX  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd 

TOKONTO 


i^..: 


i 


SADHAMA 

THE  UEAI^ISATIOTsr 
OF  J^IFE 

BV 

RABIMDRAMATH  TAGORE 


"NEVV  VORK 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPA^lV 

1916 
AD.  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


'I-;  .•mtssmivm^^f'     '' 


Col'YKK.HT.    1!M:< 

By  the  MACMILLAN  (OMPAW 


Set  up  ami  elt'ctrotyped.  I*iil)Iish('<l.  Xuvcinlicr,  \U\'.\. 
Reprinted,  I )ecenil)t'r,  VM'-i;  January.  February,  March, 
twice,  June,  July.  October.  I'Jlt;  January.  March,  July. 
November,  101.5;  May.  Au^^nist,  l!>lti;  Scpternl»er.  19li». 

Bolpur  Eihtinn.  October,  IVnii. 


u 


n 


i^ 


TO 


ERNEST  RHYS 


»,    •> 


.Z' 


)^  ...rri. 


'xj 


«  t 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Relation  of  the  Individual  to  the 

Universe 
II.  Soul  Consciousness 
III.  The  Problem  of  Evil 
IV.  The  Problem  of  Self 
V.  Realisation  in  Love 
VI.  Realisation  in  Action 
VII.  The  Realisation  of  Beauty 
VIII.  The  Realisation  of  the  Infinite 


page 

I 

23 
45 
67 

93 
117 

135 
14s 


3 


S;30 


♦ 


tm^i 


f 


THE  RELATION  OF  THE 
INDIVIDUAL  TO  THE  UNIVERSE 


i 


\ 


4 


'i 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 


I 

1 


Perhaps  It  is  well  for  me  to  explain  that  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  papers  published  in  this  book  has 
not  been  philosophically  treated,  nor  has  it  been 
approached  from  the  scholar's  point  of  view.  The 
writer  has  been  brought  up  in  a  family  where  texts 
of  the  Upanishads  are  used  in  daily  worship;  and  he 
has  had  before  him  the  example  of  his  father,  who 
lived  his  long  life  in  the  closest  communion  with 
God,  while  not  neglecting  his  duties  to  the  world,  or 
allowing  his  keen  interest  in  all  human  affairs  to 
suffer  any  abatement.  So  in  these  papers,  it  may  be 
hoped,  western  readers  will  have  an  opportunity  of 
coming  into  touch  with  the  ancient  spirit  of  India  as 
revealed  in  our  sacred  texts  and  manifested  in  the  life 
of  to-day. 

All  the  great  utterances  of  man  have  to  be  judged 
not  by  the  letter  but  by  the  spirit — the  spirit  which 
unfolds  itself  with  the  growth  of  life  in  history.  We 
S:et  to  know  the  real  meaning  of  Christianity  by 


vu 


isaaita 


VUl 


SADHANA 


observing  its  living  aspect  at  the  present  moment — 
however  different  that  may  be,  even  in  important 
respects,  from  the  Christianity  of  earlier  periods. 

For  western  scholars  the  great  religious  scriptures 
of  India  seem  to  possess  merely  a  retrospective  and 
archaeological  interest;  but  to  us  they  are  of  living 
importance,  and  we  cannot  help  thinking  that  they 
lose  their  significance  when  exhibited  in  labelled 
cases — mummied  specimens  of  human  thought  and 
aspiration,  preserved  for  all  time  in  the  wrappings  of 
erudition. 

The  meaning  of  the  living  words  that  come  out 
of  the  experiences  of  great  hearts  can  never  be 
exhausted  by  any  one  system  of  logical  interpreta- 
tion. They  have  to  be  endlessly  explained  by  the 
commentaries  of  individual  lives,  and  they  gain  an 
added  mystery  in  each  new  revelation.  To  me  the 
verses  of  the  Upanishads  and  the  teachings  of  Buddha 
have  ever  been  things  of  the  spirit,  and  therefore 
endowed  with  boundless  vital  growth;  and  I  have 
used  them,  both  in  my  own  life  and  in  my  preach- 
ing, as  being  instinct  with  individual  meaning  for 
me,  as  for  others,  and  awaiting  for  their  confirma- 
tion, my  own  special  testimony,  which  must  have  its 
value  because  of  its  individuality. 

I  should  add  perhaps  that  these  papers  embody 
in  a  connected  form,  suited  to  this  publication,  ideas 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 


12 


which  have  been  culled  from  several  of  the  Bengali 
discourses  which  I  am  in  the  habit  of  giving  to  my 
students  in  my  school  at  Bolpur  in  Bengal;  and  I 
have  used  here  and  there  translations  of  passages 
from  these  done  by  my  friends,  Babu  Satish  Chandra 
Roy  and  Babu  Ajit  Kumar  Chakravarti.  The  last 
paper  of  this  series,  "Realisation  in  Action,"  has 
been  translated  from  my  Bengali  discourse  on 
"Karma-yoga"  by  my  nephew,  Babu  Surendra  Nath 

Tagore. 

I  take  this  opportunity  of  expressing  my  gratitude 
to  Professor  James  H.  Woods,  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, for  his  generous  appreciation  which  encouraged 
me  to  complete  this  series  of  papers  and  read  most 
of  them  before  the  Harvard  University.  And  I  offer 
my  thanks  to  Mr.  Ernest  Rhys  for  his  kindness  in 
helping  me  with  suggestions  and  revisions,  and  in 
going  through  the  proofs. 

A  word  may  be  added  about  the  pronouncing  oi 
Sadhana:  the  accent  falls  decisively  on  the  first  a, 
which  has  the  broad  sound  of  the  letter. 


THE  RELATION  OF 
THE  INDIVIDUAL  TO  THE  UNIVERSE 

The  civilisation  of  ancient  Greece  was  nurtured 
within  city  walls.  In  fact,  all  the  moaern  civilisa- 
tions have  their  cradles  of  brick  and  mortar. 

These  walls  leave  their  mark  deep  in  the  minds 
of  men.    They  set  up  a  principle  of  "divide  and 
rule"  in  our  mental  outlook,  which  begets  in  us  a 
habit  of  securing   all  our  conquests  by   fortifying 
them  and  separating  them  from  one  another.    We 
divide  nation  and  nation,  knowledge  and  knowledge, 
man  and  nature.    It  breeds  in  us  a  strong  suspicion 
of  whatever  is  beyond  the  barriers  we  have  built, 
and  everything  has  to  fight  hard  for  its  entrance 
into  our  recognition. 

When  the  first  Aryan  invaders  appeared  in  India 
it  was  a  vast  land  of  forests,  and  the  new-comers 
rapidly  took  advantage  of  them.  These  forests 
afforded  them  shelter  from  the  fierce  heat  of  the  sun 
and  the  ravages  of  tropical  storms,  pastures  for 
cattle,  fuel  for  sacrificial  fire,  and  materials  for 
building  cottages.     And  the  different  Aryan  clans 


iliil 


I' 

I' 


•I 


iv'^rr' 


w 


1^ 


/ 


SADHANA 


c 


with  their  patriarchal  heads  settled  in  the  different 
forest  tracts  which  had  some  special  advantage  of 
natural  protection,  and  food  and  water  in  plenty. 

Thus  in  India  it  was  in  the  forests  that  our  civili- 
sation had  its  birth,  and  it  took  a  distinct  character 
from  this  origin  and  environment.  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  vast  life  of  nature,  was  fed  and  clothed 
by  her,  and  had  the  closest  and  most  constant  inter- 
course with  her  varying  aspects. 

Such  a  life,  it  may  be  thought,  tends  to  have  the 
effect  of  dulling  human  intelligence  and  dwarfing 
the  incentives  to  progress  by  lowering  the  standards 
of  existence.  But  in  ancient  India  we  find  that  the 
circumstances  of  forest  life  did  not  overcome  man's 
mind,  and  did  not  enfeeble  the  current  of  his  energies, 
but  only  gave  to  it  a  particular  direction.  Having 
been  in  constant  contact  with  the  living  growth  of 
nature,  his  mind  was  free  from  the  desire  to  extend 
his  dominion  by  erecting  boundary  walls  around  his 
acquisitions.  His  aim  was  not  to  acquire  but  to 
realise,  to  enlarge  his  consciousness  by  growing  with 
and  growing  into  his  surroundings.  He  felt  that 
truth  is  all-comprehensive,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  absolute  isolation  in  existence,  and  the  only 
way  of  attaining  truth  is  through  the  interpenetration 
of  our  being  into  all  objects.  To  realise  this  great 
harmony  between  man's  spirit  and  the  spirit  of  the 
world  was  the  endeavour  of  the  forest-dwelling  sages 
of  ancient  India. 


\ 


1 


INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE 


5 


In  later  days  there  came  a  time  when  these  prime- 
val forests  gave  way  to  cultivated  fields,  and  wealthy 
cities  sprang  up  on  all  sides.  Mighty  kingdoms  were 
established,  which  had  communications  with  all  the 
great  powers  of  the  world.  But  even  in  the  heyday 
of  its  material  prosperity  the  heart  of  India  ever 
looked  back  with  adoration  upon  the  early  ideal 
of  strenuous  self-realisation,  and  the  dignity  of  the 
simple  life  of  the  forest  hermitage,  and  drew  its 
best  inspiration  from  the  wisdom  stored  there. 

The  west  seems  to  take"  a  pride  in  thinking  that 
it  is  subduing  nature;  as  if  we  are  living  in  a  hostile 
world  where  we  have  to  wrest  everything  we  want 
from  an  unwilling  and  alien  arrangement  of  things. 
This  sentiment  is  the  product  of  the  city-wall  habit 
and  training  of  mind.  For  in  the  city  life  man 
naturally  directs  the  concentrated  light  of  his  mental 
vision  upon  his  own  life  and  works,  and  this  creates 
an  artificial  dissociation  between  himself  and  the 
Universal  Nature  within  whose  bosom  he  lies. 

But  in  India  the  point  of  view  was  different;  it 
included  the  world  with  the  man  as  one  great  truth. 
India  put  all  her  emphasis  on  the  harmony  that 
exists  between  the  individual  and  the  universal. 
She  felt  we  could  have  no  communication  whatever 
with  our  surroundings  if  they  were  absolutely  foreign 
to  us.  Man's  complaint  against  nature  is  that  he 
has  to  acquire  most  of  his  necessaries  by  his  own 
efforts.    Yes,  but  his  efforts  are  not  in  vain;  he  is 


!    ■ 


'W:'^ 
..^• 


t**.* . 


.«■ 


i        .     1 


■?         .-^1 


f^.^^.-/ 


^krk^. 


6  SADHANA  1 

reaping  success  every  day,  and  that  shows  there  is  a 
rational  connection  between  him  and  nature,  for  we 
never  can  make  anything  our  own  except  that  which 
is  truly  related  to  us. 

We  can  look  upon  a  road  from  two  different  points 
of  view.  One  regards  it  as  dividing  us  from  the  ob- 
ject of  our  desire;  in  that  case  we  count  every  step 
of  our  journey  over  it  as  something  attained  by 
force  in  the  face  of  obstruction.  The  other  sees  it 
as  the  road  which  leads  us  to  our  destination;  and 
as  such  it  is  part  of  our  goal.  It  is  already  the 
beginning  of  our  attainment,  and  by  journeying 
over  it  we  can  only  gain  that  which  in  itself  it  offers 
to  us.  This  last  point  of  view  is  that  of  India  with 
regard  to  nature.  For  her,  the  great  fact  is  that  we 
are  In  harmony  with  nature;  that  man  can  think 
because  his  thoughts  are  in  harmony  with  things; 
that  he  can  use  the  forces  of  nature  for  his  own 
purpose  only  because  his  power  is  in  harmony  with 
the  power  which  is  universal,  and  that  in  the  long 
run  his  purpose  never  can  knock  against  the  purpose 
which  works  through  nature. 

In  the  west  the  prevalent  feeling  is  that  nature 
belongs  exclusively  to  inanimate  things  and  to  beasts, 
that  there  is  a  sudden  unaccountable  break  where 
human-nature  begins.  According  to  it,  everything 
that  is  low  in  the  scale  of  beings  is  merely  nature, 
and  whatever  has  the  stamp  of  perfection  on  it, 
intellectual  or  moral,  is  human-nature.     It  is  like 


\ 


I  INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE  7 

dividing:  the  bud  and  the  blossom  into  two  separate 
categories,  and  putting  their  grace  to  the  credit  of  two 
different  and  antithetical  principles.  But  the  Indian 
mind  never  has  any  hesitation  in  acknowledging  its 
kinship  with  nature,  its  unbroken  relation  with  all. 

The  fundamental  unity  of  creation  was  not  simply 
a  philosophical  speculation  for  TpdiT^iyas  her  Hfe^ 
object  to  realise  this  great,  harmony  in  feelin}^ 
in  action.  With  meditation  and  service,  with  a 
regulation  of  her  life,  she  cultivated  her  conscious- 
ness in  such  a  way  that  everything  had  a  spiritual 
meaning  to  her.  The  earth,  water  and  light,  fruits 
and  flowers,  to  her  were  not  merely  physical  phenom- 
ena to  be  turned  to  use  and  then  left  aside.  They 
were  necessary  to  her  in  the  attainment  of  her  ideal 
of  perfection,  as  every  note  is  necessary  to  the  com- 
pleteness of  the  symphony.  India  intuitively  felt 
that  the  essential  fact  of  this  world  has  a  vital  mean- 
ing for  us;  we  have  to  be  fully  alive  to  it  and  establish 
a  conscious  relation  with  it,  not  merely  impelled  by 
scientific  curiosity  or  greed  of  material  advantage, 
but  realising  it  in  the  spirit  of  sympathy,  with  a 
large  feeling  of  joy  and  peace. 

The  man  of  science  knows,  in  one  aspect,  that 
the  world  is  not  merely  what  it  appears  to  be  to  our 
senses;  he  knows  that  earth  and  water  are  really  the 
play  of  forces  that  manifest  themselves  to  us  as  earth 
and  water — how,  we  can  but  partially  apprehend. 
Likewise  the  man  who  has  his  spiritual  eyes  open 


8 


SADHANA 


V^ 


knows  tha-t  the  ultimate  truth  about  earth  and  water 
lies  in  our  apprehension  of  the  eternal  will  which 
works  in  time  and  takes  shape  in  the  forces  we  realise 
under  those  aspects.    This  is  not  mere  knowledge, 
as  science  is,  but  it  is  a  preception  of  the  soul  by 
the  soul.    This  does  not  lead  us  to  power,  as  knowl- 
r  edge  does,  but  it  gives  us  joy,  which  is  the  product 
^  of  the  union  of  kindred  things.     The  man  whose 
acquaintance  with   the  world   does   not  lead   him 
deeper  than  science  leads  him,  will  never  understand 
what  it  is  that  the  man  with  the  spiritual  vision  finds 
in  these  natural  phenomena.    The  water  does  not 
merely  cleanse  his  limbs,  but  it  purifies  his  heart; 
for  it  touches  his  soul.    The  earth  does  not  merel 
hold  his  body,  but  it  gladdens  his  mind;  for  its 
contact  is  more  than  a  physical  contact— it  is  a  living 
r presence.    When  a  man  does  not  realise  his  kinship 
with  the  world,  he  lives  in  a  prison-house  whose  walls 
are  alien  to  him.    When  he  meets  the  eternal  spirit 
in  all  objects,  then  is  he  emancipated,  for  then  he 
discovers  the  fullest  significance  of  the  world  into 
which  he  is  born;  then  he  finds  himself  in  perfect 
1^  truth,  and  his  harmony  with  the  all  is  established. 
if  In  India  men  are  enjoined  to  be  fully  awake  to  the 
fact  that  they  are  in  the  closest  relation  to  things 
j  around  them,  body  and  soul,  and  that  they  are  to 
hail  the  morning  sun,  the  flowing  water,  the  fruitful 
earth,  as  the  manifestation  of  the  same  living  truth 
which  holds  them  in  its  embrace.    Thus  the  text  of 


INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE 


our  everyday  meditation  is  the  Ga^atri^  sl  verse  which 
is  considered  to  be  the  epitome  of  all  the  Vedas. 
Byjtsjielp-we  try  laxealiae  the^gssential  unity_ofjhe  ^ 
world  with  the  conscious   soul^^of^jnanj^we  learn 

one  ^^^^^^ 

Eternal  Spirit,  whose  power  creates  the  earth,  the 
sky,  and  the  stars,  and  at  the  same  time  irradiates 
our  minds  with  the  light  of  a  consciousness  that 
moves  and  exists  in  unbroken  continuity  with  the 

outer  world- 
It  is  not  true  that  India  has  tried  to  ignore  differ- 
ences of  value  in  different  things,  for  she  knows  that 
would  make  life  impossible.  The  sense  of  the  supe- 
riority of  man  in  the  scale  of  creation  has  not  been 
absent  from  her  mind.  But  she  has  had  her  own 
idea  as  to  that  in  which  his  superiority  really  con- 
sists. It  is  not  Jn_the  power  of  possession  but  in  ^ 
th&j[p55?eiL.  of  jmjon.  Therefore  India  chose  her 
places  of  pilgrimage  wherever  there  was  in  nature 
some  special  grandeur  or  beauty,  so  that  her  mind 
could  come  out  of  its  world  of  narrow  necessities  and 
realise  its  place  in  the  infinite.  This  was  the  reason 
why_inj[ndij,.3_  wiLQle^peoj^  who  once  were . meafc___ 
eaters  gave  up  taking  animal  food  to  cultivate  the 
sentiment  of  universal  sympathy  for  life,  an  event 
uniqucin^t^Jiistpry  of  mankind. 

India  knew  that  when  by  physical  and  mental 
barriers  we  violently  detach  ourselves  from  the 
inexhaustible  life  of  nature;  when  we  become  merely 


/^t.^^.'-^' 


10 


sSdhanA 


i 


man,  but  not  man-in-the-:4in^  we  create  be- 

wildering problems,  and  having  shut  off  the  source 
of  their  solution,  we  try  all  kinds  of  artificial  methods 
each  of  which  brings  its  own  crop  of  interminable 
difficulties.  When  man  leaves  his  resting-place  in 
universal  nature,  when  he  walks  on  the  single  rope 
of  humanity,  it  means  either  a  dance  or  a  fall  for 
him,  he  has  ceaselessly  to  strain  every  nerve  and 
muscle  to  keep  his  balance  at  each  step,  and  then,  in 
the  intervals  of  his  weariness,  he  fulminates  against 
Providence  and  feels  a  secret  pride  and  satisfaction 
in  thinking  that  he  has  been  unfairiy  dealt  with  by 
the  whole  scheme  of  things.  ^ 

But  this  cannot  go  on  for  ever.  Man  must  realise  j 
the  wholeness  of  his  existence,  his  place  in  the  infinite; 
he  must  know  that  hard  as  he  may  strive  he  can 
never  create  his  honey  within  the  cells  of  his  hive, 
for  the  perennial  supply  of  his  life  food  is  outside  I 
their  walls.  He  must  know  that  when  man  shuts 
himself  out  from  the  vitalising  and  purifying  touch 
of  the  infinite,  and  falls  back  upon  himself  for  his 
sustenance  and  his  healing,  then  he  goads  himself 
into  madness,  tears  himself  into  shreds,  and  eats  his 
own  substance.  Deprived  of  the  background  of  the 
whole,  his  poverty  loses  its  one  great  quality,  which 
is  simplicity,  and  becomes  squalid  and  shamefaced. 
His  wealth  is  no  longer  magnanimous;  it  grows 
merely  extravagant.  His  appetites  do  not  minister 
to  his  life,  keeping  to  the  limits  of  their  purpose; 


I  INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE  ii 

they  become  an  end  in  themselves  and  set  fire  to  his 
life  and  play  the  fiddle  in  the  lurid  light  of  the  con-  ^^^^  ^^ 
flagration.    Then  it  is  that  in  our  self-expression  we   ^^^  ^^^^^ 
try  to  startle  and  not  to  attract;  m^art  we  strive  for    ^^  ^^^,  fi^ 
originality  and  lose  sight  of  truth  whidi^  is  old  and 
yet  ever  new;  in  literature  we' miss  the  complete  ^ 
"^i;i^^;rdrinairwhich  is  simple  and  yet  great,  but  he 
appears  as  a  psychological  problem  or  the  embodi- 
ment of  a  passion  that  is  intense  because  abnormal 
and  because   exhibited   in  the   glare  of   a  fiercely 
emphatic  light  which  is  artificial.    When  man's  con- 
sciousness  is  restricted  only  to  the  immediate  vicinity  • 
of  his  human  self,  the  deeper  roots  of  his  nature  do 
not  find  their  permanent  soil,  his  spirit  is  ever  on  the 
brink  of  starvation,  and  in  the  place  of  healthful 
strength  he  substitutes  rounds  of  stimulation.    Then 
It  is  that  man   misses   his   inner  perspective   and 
measures  hi^  greatness  by  its  bulk  and  not  by  its 
vital  link  with  the  infinite,  judges  his  activity  by  its 
movement  and  not  by  the  repose  of  perfection-the 
repose  whichjsjn  the  starry  heajrens^m  the  gY.gI= 
^flowing  Jchythmicdanre.  of  ^li^^pon.   .. 

The  first  Invasion  of  India  has  Its  exact  parallel 
in  the  invasion  of  America  by  the  European  settlers. 
They  also  were  confronted  with  primeval  forests  and 
a  fierce  struggle  with  aboriginal  races.  But  this 
struggle  between  man  and  man,  and  man  and  nature 
lasted  till  the  very  end;  they  never  came  to  any 
terms.    In  India  the  forests  which  were  the  habita- 


\ 


12 


sadhanA 


I 


tlon  of  barbarians  became  the  sanctuary  of  sages,  but 
in  America  these  great  living  cathedrals  of  nature 
had  no  deeper  significance  to  man.  They  brought 
wealth  and  power  to  him,  and  perhaps  at  times  they 
ministered  to  his  enjoyment  of  beauty,  and  inspired  a 
solitary  poet.  They  never  acquired  a  sacred  associa- 
tion in  the  hearts  of  men  as  the  site  of  some  great 
spiritual  reconcilement  where  man's  soul  had  its 
meeting-place  with  the  soul  of  the  world. 

I  do  not  for  a  moment  wish  to  suggest  that  things 
should  have  been  otherwise.  It  would  be  an  utter 
waste  of  opportunities  if  history  were  to  repeat 
itself  exactly  in  the  same  manner  in  every  place.  It 
is  best  forjtlifiLCOinmerce  of  the  spirit  that  people 
differently  situated  should  bring  their  different  prod- 
ucts into  the  market  of  humanity,  each  of  which  is 
complementary  and  necessary  to  the  others.  All 
that  I  wish  to  say  is  that  India  at  the  outset  of  her 
career  met  with  a  special  combination  of  circum- 
stances which  was  not  lost  upon  her.  She  had,  ac- 
cording to  her  opportunities,  thought  and  pondered, 
striven  and  suffered,  dived  into  the  depths  of  exist- 
ence, and  achieved  something  which  surely  cannot  be 
without  its  value  to  people  whose  evolution  in  history 
took  a  different  way  altogether.  Man  for  his  perfect 
growth  requires  all  the  living  elements  that  constitute 
his  complex  life;  that  is  why  his  food  has  to  be  culti- 
vated in  different  fields  and  brought  from  different 
sources. 


I  INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE  13 

Civilisation  is  a  kind  of  mould  that  each  nation  is 
busy  making  for  itself  to  shape  its  men  and  women 
according  to  its  best  ideaLl   All  its  institutions,  its 
legislature,  its  standard  of  approbation  and  condem- 
nation, its  conscious  and  unconscious  teachings  tend 
toward  that  object.    The  modern  civilisation  of  the 
west,  by  all  its  organised  efforts,  is  trying  to  turn 
out  men  perfect  in  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral 
efficiency.     There  the  vast  energies  of  the  nations  • 
are  employed  in  extending  man's  power  over  his  • 
surroundings,  and  people  are  combining  and  strain- . 
ing  every  faculty  to  possess  and  to  turn  to  account 
all  that  they  can  lay  their  hands  upon,  to  overcome 
every  obstacle  on  their  path  of  conquest.    They  are 
ever   disciplining   themselves   to  fight   nature   and 
other  races;  their  armaments  are  getting  more  and 
more  stupendous  every  day;  their  machines,  their 
appliances,  their  organisations  go  on  multiplying  at 
an  amazing  rate.    This  is  a  splendid  achievement,- 
no  doubt,  and  a  wonderful  manifestation  of  man's 
masterfulness  which  knows  no  obstacle,  and  which 
has  for  its  object  the  supremacy  of  himself  over  every- 
thing else. 

The  ancient  civilisation  of  India  had  its  own  ideal 
of  perfection  towards  which  its  efforts  were  directed. 
Its  aim  was  not  attaining  power,  and  it  neglected 
to  cultivate  to  the  utmost  its  capacities,  and  to 
organise  men  for  defensive  and  offensive  purposes, 
for  co-operation  in  the  acquisition  of  wealth  and  fof 


14 


SADHANA 


military  and  political  ascendancy.  The  ideal  that 
India  tried  to  realise  led  her  best  men  to  the  isola-j 
tion  of  a  contemplative  life,  and  the  treasures  that 
she  gained  for  mankind  by  penetrating  into  the  mys- 
teries of  reality  cost  her  dear  in  the  sphere  of  worldly  i 
success.  Yet,  this  also  was  a  sublime  achievement, — • 
it  was  a  supreme  manifestation  of  that  human  aspi- 
ration which  knows  no  limit,  and  which  has  for  its 
object  nothing  less  than  the  realisation  of  the 
Infinite. 

There  were  the  virtuous,  the  wise,  the  courageous; 
there  were  the  statesmen,  kings  and  emperors  of 
India;  but  whom  amongst  all  these  classes  did  she 
look  up  to  and  choose  to  be  the  representative  of 

V/»/They  were  the  rishis.  What  were  the  rishis? 
They  who  having  attained  the  supreme  soul  in  knowledge 
were  filled  with  wisdom^  and  having  found  him  in 
union  with  the  soul  were  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
inner  self;  they  having  realised  him  in  the  heart  were 
free  from  all  selfish  desires,  and  having  experienced  him 
in  all  the  activities  of  the  world,  had  attained  calmness. 
The  rishis  were  they  who  having  reached  the  supreme 
God  from  all  sides  had  found  abiding  peace,  had  become 
united  with  all,  had  entered  into  the  life  of  the  Universe} 
Thus  the  state  of  realising  our  relationship  with 

*  Samprapyainam  rishayo  jnanatriptah 
Kritatmano  vltaragah  pra9antah 
tc  sarvagam  sarvatah  prapya  dhirah 
Yuktatmanah  sarvamevavi9anti« 


I  INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE         ij 

all,  of  entering  into  everything  through  union  with 
God,  was  considered  in  India  to  be  the  ultimate  end 
and  fulfilment  of  humanity. 

Man  can  destroy  and  plunder,  earn  and  accumu- 
late, invent  and  discover,  but  he  is  great  because  his 
soul  comprehends  all.  It  is  dire  destruction  for  him 
when  he  envelopes  his  soul  in  a  dead  shell  of  callous 
habits,  and  when  a  blind  fury  of  works  whirls  round 
him  like  an  eddying  dust  storm,  shutting  out  the 
horizon.  That  indeed  kills  the  very  spirit  of  his 
being,  which  is  the  spirit  of  comprehension,  JEss^ti*- 
ally  man  is  not  a  slave  either  of  himself  or  of  the  ^ 
world;  but  he  is  a  lover.     His  freedom  and  tultil^ 


mentjii^i  Jove,  which  is  another  name  for  perfect^ 
comprehension.  Bx^this  power  of  comprehension, 
this  permeation  of  his  being,  he  is  united  with  the 
all-pervading  Spirit,  who  is  also  the  breath  of  his 
soul.  Where  a  man  tries  to  raise  himself  to  eminence 
by  pushing  and  jostling  all  others,  to  achieve  a 
distinction  by  which  he  prides  himself  to  be  more 
than  everybody  else,  there  he  is  alienated  from  that 
Spirit.  This  is  why  the  Upanishads  describe  those 
who  have  attained  the  goal  of  human  life  ^  as 
''peaceful''^  and  as  '' at-one-with-God;' ^  meaning 
that  they  are  in  perfect  harmony  with  man  and 
nature,   and  therefore  in  undisturbed  union  with 

God. 

We  have  a  glimpse  of  the  same  truth  in  the 

iPra9antah.  « YuktatmSnah. 


i6 


SADHANA 


teachings  of  Jesus  when  he  says,  "It  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for 
a  rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  Heaven" — ' 
which  implies  that  whatever  we  treasure  for  ourselves 
separates  us  from  others;  our  possessions  are  our 
limitations.  He  who  is  bent  upon  accumulating 
riches  is  unable,  with  his  ego  continually  bulging, 
to  pass  through  the  gates  of  comprehension  of  the 
spiritual  world,  which  is  the  world  of  perfect  har- 
mony; he  is  shut  up  within  the  narrow  walls  of  his 
limited  acquisitions. 

Hence  the  spirit  of  the  teachings  of  Upanishad 

is:  In  order  to  find  him  you  must  embrace  all.     In 

•t 

the  pursuit  of  wealth  you  really  give  up  everything 
to  gain  a  few  things,  and  that  is  not  the  way  to  attain 
him  who  is  completeness. 

Some  modern  philosophers  of  Europe,  who  are 
directly  or  indirectly  indebted  to  the  Upanishads, 
far  from  realising  their  debt,  maintain  that  the 
Brahma  of  India  is  a  mere  abstraction,  a  negation  of 
all  that  is  in  the  world.  In  a  word,  that  the  Infinite 
Being  is  to  be  found  nowhere  except  in  metaphysics. 
It  may  be,  that  such  a  doctrine  has  been  and  still 
is  prevalent  with  a  section  of  our  countrymen.  But 
this  is  certainly  not  in  accord  with  the  pervading 
spirit  of  the  Indian  mind.  Instead,  it  is  the  practice 
of  realising  and  affirming  the  presence  of  the  infinite 
in  all  things  which  has  been  its  constant  inspira* 
tion. 


v. 


I       I 


I  INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE  17 

We  are  enjoined  to  see  whatever  there  is  in  the 
world  as  being  enveloped  by  God. 

I  bow  to  God  over  and  over  again  who  is  in  fire 
and  in  water,  who  permeates  the  whole  world,  who  is ^ 
in  the  annual  crops  as  well  as  in  the  perennial  trees.  ^^ 

Can  this  be  God  abstracted  from  the  worid?     In- 
stead, it  signifies  not  merely  seeing  him  in  all  things, 
but  saluting  him  in  all  the  objects  of  the  world. 
The  attitude  of  the  God-conscious  man  of  the  Upan- 
ishad towards  the  universe  is  one  of  a  deep  feeling 
of  adoration.    His  object  of  worship  is  present  every- 
where.    It  is  the  one  living  truth  that  makes  all 
realities  true.    This  truth  is  not  only  of  knowledge 
but  of  devotion.     'Namonamah,'—we  bow  to  him 
everywhere,  and  over  and  over  again.     It  is  recog- 
nised in  the  outburst  of  the  Rishi,  who  addresses  ^ 
the  whole  worid  in  a  sudden  ecstasy  of  joy:  Listen 
to  me,  ye  sons  of  the  immortal  spirit,  ye  who  live  in 
the  heavenly  abode,  I  have  known  the  Supreme  Person^ 
whose  light  shines  forth  from  beyond  the  darkness."" 
Do  we  not  find  the  overwhelming  delight  of  a  direct 
and  positive  experience  where  there  is  not  the  least 
trace  of  vagueness  or  passivity? 

Buddha,^  who  developed  the  practical  side  of  the 
teaching  of  Upanishads,  preached  the  same  message 

1  I^avasyamidam  sarvam  yat  kincha  jagatyan  jagat.  . 

«  Yo  devo'gnau  y'opsu  yo  vitvambhuvanamavive^a  ya  oshadhishu  yo 
ranaspatishu  tasmai  devaya  namonamah.  ^        ,    i       j- 

»  Crinvantu  vi^ve  amritasya  putra  a  ye  divya  dhamani  tasthuh  ved* 
hameum  purusham  mahantam  aditya  varnam  tamasah  parastat. 


i8 


SADHANA 


INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE 


19 


when  he  said,  With  everything^  whether  it  is  above  or 
below,  remote  or  near,  visible  or  invisible,  thou  shalt  pre* 
serve  a  relation  of  unlimited  love  without  any  animosity 
or  without  a  desire  to  kill.  To  live  in  such  a  conscious* 
ness  while  standing  or  walking,  sitting  or  lying  down 
till  you  are  asleep,  is  Brahma  vihara,  or,  in  other 
words,  is  living  and  moving  and  having  your  joy  in  the 
spirit  of  Brahma. 

What  IS  that  spirit?  The  Upanishad  says,  The 
being  who  is  in  his  essence  the  light  and  life  of  all, 
who  is  world-conscious,  is  Brahma}  To  feel  all, 
to  be  conscious  of  everything,  is  his  spirit.  We  are 
immersed  in  his  consciousness  body  and  soul.  It 
is  through  his  consciousness  that  the  sun  attracts 
the  earth;  it  is  through  his  consciousness  that  the-i 
light-\^i^es  are  being  transmitted  from  planet  to^ 
planet. 

Not  only  in  space,  but  this  light  and  life,  this  all* 
feeling  being  is  in  our  souls}  He  is  all-conscious  in 
space,  or  the  world  of  extension;  and  he  is  all- 
conscious  In  soul,  or  the  world  of  intension. 

Thus  to  attain  our  world-consciousness,  we  have 
to  unite  our  feeling  with  this  all-pervasive  infinite 
feeling.  In  fact,  the  only  true  human  progress  is 
coincident  with  this  widening  of  the  range  of  feeling. 
All  our  poetry,  philosophy,  science,  art,  and  religion 

^  Ya^chayamasminnaka9e  tejomayo'mritamayah  purushah 
vanubhuh. 

*  Ya9chayamasminnatmani  tejomayo'mritamayah  purushah 
vanubhuh. 


sar- 


sar* 


are  serving  to  extend  the  scope  of  our  consciousness 
towards  higher  and  larger  spheres.  Man  does  not 
acquire  rights  through  occupation  of  larger  space, 
nor  through  external  conduct,  but  his  rights  extend 
only  so  far  as  he  is  real,  and^his  reah'ty  \^  ms^sur^d 
by  the  scope  of  his  consciousness.. 

We  have,  however,  to  pay  a  price  for  this  attain- 
ment of  the  freedom  of  consciousness.  What  is  the 
price?  It  is  to  give  one's  self  away.  Our  soul  can 
realise  itself  truly  only  by  denying  Itself.  The 
Upanishad^says,  Thou^shdLMm  h  gmH  a^ay,^ 
Thou^shaltnot  covet} 
^  In  Gita  we  afTadvised  to  work  disinterestedly, 
abandoning  all  lust  for  the  result.  Many  outsiders 
conclude  from  this  teaching  that  the  conception  of 
the  world  as  something  unreal  lies  at  the  root  of 
the  so-called  disinterestedness  preached  in  India. 
But  the  reverse  is  the  truth. 

The  man  who  aims  at  his  own  aggrandisement 
underrates  everything  else.  Compared  to  his  ego 
the  rest  of  the  world  is  unreal.  Thus  in  order  to  be 
fully  conscious  of  the  reality  of  all,  one  has  to  be 
free  himself  from  the  bonds  of  personal  desires. 
This  discipline  we  have  to  go  through  to  prepare 
ourselves  for  our  social  duties— for  sharing  the 
burdens  of  our  fellow-beings.  Every  endeavour  to 
attain  a  larger  life  requires  of  man  "to  gain  by 
giving  away,  and  not  to  be  greedy."    And  thus  to 

1  Tyaktena  bhunjithah.  *  M*  gridhah. 


20 


SADHANA 


expand  gradually  the  consciousness  oi  one's  unity 
with  all  is  the  striving  of  humanity. 

The  Infinite  in  India  was  not  a  thin  nonentity, 
void  of  all  content.  The  Rishis  of  India  asserted 
emphatically,  "To  know  him  in  this  life  is  to  be 
true;  not  to  know  him  in  this  life  is  the  desolation 
of  death."  ^  How  to  know  him  then.^  "By  realis- 
ing him  in  each  and  all."  ^  Not  only  in  nature  but 
in  the  family,  in  society,  and  in  the  state,  the  more 
we  realise  the  World-conscious  in  all,  the  better 
for  us.  Failing  to  realise  it,  we  turn  our  faces  to 
destruction. 

It  fills  me  with  great  joy  and  a  high  hope  for  the 
future  of  humanity  when  I  realise  that  there  was  a 
time  in  the  remote  past  when  our  poet-prophets 
stood  under  the  lavish  sunshine  of  an  Indian  sky  and 
greeted  the  world  with  the  glad  recognition  of  kin- 
dred. It  was  not  an  anthropomorphic  hallucina- 
tion. It  was  not  seeing  man  reflected  everywhere  in 
grotesquely  exaggerated  images,  and  witnessing  the 
human  drama  acted  on  a  gigantic  scale  in  nature's 
arena  of  flitting  lights  and  shadows.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  meant  crossing  the  limiting  barriers  of  the 
individual,  to  become  more  than  man,  to  become 
one  with  the  All.  It  was  not  a  mere  play  of  the  imag- 
ination, but  it  was  the  liberation  of  consciousness 
from   all   the   mystifications   and   exaggerations   of 

*  Iha  chet  avedit  atha  satyamasti,  nachet  iha  avedit  mahati  vmashtih. 

*Bhuteshu  bhuteshu  vichintva. 


INDIVIDUAL  AND  UNIVERSE 


21 


the   self.     These   ancient   seers   felt  in  the   serene 
depth  of  their  mind  that  the  same  energy  which 
vibrates  and  passes  into  the  endless  forms  of  the 
world  manifests  itself  in  our  inner  being  as  conscious- 
ness; and  there  is  no  break  in  unity.    For  these  seers 
there  was  no  gap  in  their  luminous  vision  of  per- 
fection.     They    never    acknowledged    even    death 
itself  as  creating  a  chasm  in  the  field  of  reality. 
They  said.  His  reflection  is  death  as  well  as  immor- 
tality}   They  did  not  recognise  any  essential  opposi- 
tion between  life  and  death,  and  they  said  with  ab- 
solute assurance,  "It  is  life  that  is  deatLiJJ    Tb 
saluted  with  the  same  serenity  of  gladness  "life  in 
its  aspect  of  appearing  and  in  its  aspect  of  departure" 
•^That  which  is  past  is  hidden  in  life,  and  that  which 
is  to  come}    They  knew  that  mere  appearance  and 
disappearance  are  on  the  surface  like  waves  on  the 
sea,  but  life  which  is  permanent  knows  no  decay  or 
diminution. 

Everything  has  sprung  from  immortal  life  and  is 
vibrating  with  life,^  for  life  is  immense} 

This  is  the  noble  heritage  from  our  forefathers 
waiting  to  be  claimed  by  us  as  our  own,  this  ideal  of 
the  RTTjvrpme  freedom  of  consciousness.  It  is  not 
merely  intellectual  or  emotional,  it  has  an  ethical 
basis,  and  it  must  be  translated  into  action.     In 

1  Yasya  chhayamrltam  yasya  mrityuh.  ^  Prino  mrityuh. 

»  Namo  astu  ayate  namo  astu  parayate.    Prane  ha  bhutam  bhavyaficha. 

*  Yadidan  kincha  prana  ejati  nihsritam.  ^  Prano  virat. 


22 


SADHANA 


the  Upanishad  it  is  said,  The  supreme  being  is  all- 
pervading,  therefore  he  is  the  innate  good  in  all} 
To^e  truly  united  in  knowledge,  love,  and  service 
with  all  KlngsTand  thus  to  realise  one's  self  in  the 
,all-pervading  God  is  the  essence  of  goodness,  and 
fW^\s^  tlie  Ve;Ym¥  Q^  ^^le  teachings  of  the  Upanishads ; 
Life  is  immense!  * 

*  Sarvavyapi  sa  bhagavan  tasmat  sarvagatah  ^ivah.    ■  Prano  virat. 


r 


I 


n 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


as 


l\ 


I 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 

We  have  seen  that  it  was  the  aspiration  of  ancient 
India  to  live  and  move  and  have  its  joy  in  Brahma, 
the  all-conscious  and  all-pervading  Spirit^  by  extend- 
ing its  field  of  consciousness  over  all  the  world.  But 
that,  it  may  be  xirged,  is  an  impossible  task  for  man 
to  achieve.  If  this  extension  of  consciousness  be 
an  outward  process,  then  it  is  endless;  it  is  like 
attempting  to  cross  the  ocean  after  ladling  out  its 
water.  By  beginning  to  try  to  realise  all,  one  has 
to  end  by  realising  nothing. 

But,  in  reality,  it  is  not  so  absurd  as  it  sounds.  J 
Man  has  every  day  to  solve  this  problem  of  enlarg- 
ing his  region  and  adjusting  his  burdens.  His  bur- 
dens are  many,  too  numerous  for  him  to  carry, 
but  he  knows  that  by  adopting  a  system  he  can 
lighten  the  weight  of  his  load.  Whenever  they  feel 
too  complicated  and  unwieldy,  he  knows  it  is  because 
he  has  not  been  able  to  hit  upon  the  system  which 
would  have  set  everything  in  place  and  distributed 
the  weight  evenly.  JHfi  F?^^b  f?^  system  k  rrrally 
a  search  for  unity,  for  synthesis;  it  is  our  attempt 

25 


) 


26 


SADHANA 


II 


to  harmonise  the  heterogeneous  complexity  of  out- 
ward materials  by  an  inner  adjustment.  In  the 
I  search  we  gradually  become  aware  that  to  find  out  the 
One  is  to  possess  the  All;  that  there,  indeed,  is  our  last 
a  highest  privilege.    It  is  based  on  the  law  of  that 


an 


unity  which  is,   if  we  only   know  it,  our  abiding 
strength.    Its  living  principle  is  the  power  that  is  in 
truth;  the  truth  of  that  unity  which  comprehends 
multiplicity.    Facts  are  many,  but  the  truth  is  one. 
The   animal   intelligence   knows   facts,   the   human 
mind  has  power  to  apprehend  truth.    The  apple  falls 
from  the  tree,  the  rain  descends  upon  the  earth — you 
can  go  on  burdening  your  memory  with  such  facts 
and  never  come  to  an  end.    But  once  you  get  hold  of 
\|the  law  of  gravitation  you  can  dispense  with  the 
necessity  of  collecting  facts  ad  infinitum.    You  have 
got  at  one  truth  which  governs  numberless  facts. 
This  discovery  of  a  truth  is  pure  joy  to  man — it  is  a 
liberation  of  his  mind.     For,  a  mere  fact  is  like  a  | 
blind  lane,  it  leads  only  to  itself — it  has  no  beyond.  J 
But  a  truth  opens  up  a  whole  horizon,  it  leads  us  to  / 
the  infinite.    That  is  the  reason  why,  when  a  manj 
like  Darwin  discovers   some  simple  general   truth/ 
about  Biology^it  4oes^  not  stop  there,  but  like  a 
lamp  shedding  its  light  far  beyond  the  object  for 
which  it  was  lighted,  it  illumines  the  whole  region  of 
human  life  and  thought,  transcending  its  original  pur- 
pose.   Thus  we  find  that  truth,  while  investing  all 
facts,   is   not   a   mere   aggregate   of   facts — it   sur- 


II 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


27 


passes  them  on  all  sides  and  points  to  the  infinite 
reality. 

As  in  the  region  of  knowledge  so  in  that  of  con- 
sciousness, man  must  clearly  realise  some  central 
truth  which  will  give  him  an  outlook  over  the  widest 
possible  field.  And  that  is  the  object  which  the 
Upanishad  has  in  view  when  it  says.  Know  thine 
own  Soul.  Or,  in  other  words,  realise  the  one  great 
principle  of  unity  that  there  is  in  every  man. 

All  our  egoistic  impulses,  our  selfish  desires, 
obscure  our  true  vision  of  the  soul.  For  they  only 
indicate  our  own  narrow  self.  When  we  are  con- 
scious of  our  soul,  we  perceive  the  inner  being  that 
transcends  our  ego  and  has  its  deeper  affinity  with 

the  All. 

Children,  when  they  begin  to  learn  each  separate 

letter  of  the  alphabet,  find  no  pleasure  in  it,  because 

they  miss  the  real  purpose  of  the  lesson;  in  fact, 

while  letters  claim  our  attention  only  in  themselves 

and  as  isolated  things,  they  fatigue  us.    They  become 

a  source  of  joy  to  us  only  when  they  combine  into 

words  and  sentences  and  convey  an  idea. 

KA/'^^         Likewise,  our  soul  when  detached  and  imprisoned 

i  ^iA>      within  the  narrow  limits  of  a  self  loses  its  significance. 

]/i     JijFor  its  very  essence  is^unity.    It  can  only  find  out 

//kV^  its  trutli  by  unifying  itself  with  others,  and  only 

then  it  has  its  joy.    Man  was  troubled  and  he  lived 

in  a  state  of  fear  so  long  as  he  had  not  discovered 

the  uniformity  of  law  in  nature;  till  then  the  world 


/ 


( 


A 


28 


SADHANA 


II 


was  alien  to  him.  The  law  that  he  discovered  is 
nothing  but  the  perception  of  harmony  that  prevails 
between  reason  which  is  of  the  soul  of  man  and  the^ 
workings  of  the  world.  This  is  the  bond  of  union 
through  which  man  is  related  to  the  world  in  which 
he  lives,  and  he  feels  an  exceeding  joy  when  he  finds 
this  out,  for  then  he  realises  himself  in  his  surround- 
ings. To  understand  anything  is  to  find  in  it  some- 
thing which  is  our  own,  and  it  is  the  discovery  of 
ourselves  outside  us  which  makes  us  glad.  This 
relation  of  understanding  is  partial,  but  the  relation 
of  love  is  complete.  In  love  the  sense  of  difference 
is  obliterated  and  the  human  soul  fulfils  its  purpose 
in  perfection,  transcending  the  limits  of  itself  and 
reaching  across  the  threshold  of  the  infinite.  There- 
fore love  is  the  highest  bliss  that  man  can  attain  to, 
for  through  it  alone  he  truly  knows  that  he  is  more 
than  himself,  and  that  he  is  at  one  with  the  All. 

*his  principle  of  unity  which  man  has  in  his  soul 
is  ever  active,  establishing  relations  far  and  wide 
through  literature,  art,  and  science,  society,  state- 
craft, and  religion.  Our  great  Revealers  are  they 
who  make  manifest  the  true  meaning  of  the  soul  by 
giving  up  self  for  the  love  of  mankind.  They  face 
calumny  and  persecution,  deprivation  and  death  in 
their  service  of  love.  They  live  theiifeof  the  soul, 
not  of  the  self,  and  thus  they  prove  to  us  the  ulti- 
mate truth  of  humanity.  We  call  them  Mahdtmds^ 
**  the  men  of  the  great  soul." 


I 


> 


II 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


29 


It  IS  said  in  one  of  the  Upanishads:  It  is  not  thai 
thou  lovest  thy  son  because  thou  desirest  him,  but  thou 
lovest  thy  son  because  thou  desirest  thine  own  soul} 
The  meaning  of  this  is,  that  whomsoever  we  love,  in 
him  we  find  our  own  soul  in  the  highest  sense.  The 
final  truth  of  our  existence  lies  in  this.  Paramdtmd^ 
the  supreme  soul,  is  in  me,  as  well  as  in  my  son, 
and  my  joy  in  my  son  is  the  realisation  of  this  truth. 
It  has  become  quite  a  commonplace  fact,  yet  it  is 
wonderful  to  think  upon,  that  the  joys  and  sorrows 
of  our  loved  ones  are  joys  and  sorrows  to  us — nay, 
they  are  more.  Why  so.^  Because  in  them  we 
have  grown  larger,  in  them  we  have  touched  that 
great  truth  which  comprehends  the  whole  universe. 

It  very  often  happens  that  our  love  for  our  children, 
our  friends,  or  other  loved  ones,  debars  us  from 
the  further  realisation  of  our  soul.  It  enlarges  our 
scope  of  consciousness,  no  doubt,  yet  it  sets  a  limit 
to  its  freest  expansion.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the 
first  step,  and  all  the  wonder  lies  in  this  first  step 
itself.  It  shows  to  us  the  true  nature  of  our  soul. 
From  it  we  know,  for  certain,  that -our  highest  joy  is 

^^^jh^josjag-^-^''  ^g'^Jg^'^-  ^^^  ""^  i"  thft-WMting 
with  other§j^_This  love  gives  us  a  new  power  and 
insight  and  beauty  of  mind  to  the  extent  of  the  limits 
we  set  around  it,  but  ceases  to  do  so  if  those  limits 
lose  their  elasticity,  and  militate  against  the  spirit 

^Na  va  are  putrasya  kamaya  putrah  priyo  bhavati,  atmanastu 
kamaya  putrah  priyo  bhavati. 


\ 


I 


30 


SADHANA 


II 


of  love  altogether;  then  our  friendships  become 
exclusive,  our  families  selfish  and  inhospitable,  our 
nations  insular  and  aggressively  inimical  to  other 
It  is  like  putting  a  burning  light  within  a 


races. 


sealed  enclosure,  which  shines  brightly  till  the  poison- 
ous gases  accumulate  and  smother  the  flame.  Never- 
theless it  has  proved  its  truth  before  it  dies,  and 
made  known  the  joy  of  freedom  from  the  grip  of 
the  darkness,  blind  and  empty  and  cold. 
According  to  the  Upjjoisliads^-lhejcey  tojco^^ 

l^i— ..^^  Hill      ■■— ^ll^■■. -II ^ii«    "  i^iir^-'"'*'*'''''''''*''^*'^^  **" 

consciousness,-  to  God-consciousness^  is  in  the  con- 

mill ■■■  ■iiii»i'»»—' •'"'^  -  ■■...,». 

sciousness  of  jyie-.*ouL— 4-o  know  our  soul  apart 
from  the^seljLIs  the  first  step  towards  the  realisation 
oT  the  supreme  deliverance.  We  must  know  with 
absolute  certainty  that  essentially  we  are  spirit.  This 
we  can  do  by  winning  mastery  over  self,  by  rising 
above  all  pride  and  greed  and  fear,  by  knowing  that 
worldly  losses  and  physical  death  can  take  nothing 
away  from  the  truth  and  the  greatness  of  our  soul. 
The  chick  knows  when  it  breaks  through  the  self- 
centred  isolation  of  its  egg  that  the  hard  shell  which 
covered  it  so  long  was  not  really  a  part  of  its  life. 
That  shell  is  a  dead  thing,  it  has  no  growth,  it  affords 
no  glimpse  whatever  of  the  vast  beyond  that  lies  out- 
side it.  However  pleasantly  perfect  and  rounded 
it  may  be,  it  must  be  given  a  blow  to,  it  must  be 
burst  through  and  thereby  the  freedom  of  light  and 
air  be  won,  and  the  complete  purpose  of  bird  life  be 
achieved.    In  Sanskrit,  the  bird  has  been  called  the 


II 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


31 


twice-born.  So  too  the  man  who  has  gone  through 
the  ceremony  of  the  discipline  of  self-restraint  and 
high  thinking  for  a  period  of  at  least  twelve  years; 
who  has  come  out  simple  in  wants,  pure  in  heart, 
and  ready  to  take  up  all  the  responsibilities  of  life  in 
a  disinterested  largeness  of  spirit.  He  is  considered 
to  have  had  his  rebirth  from  the  blind  envelopment 
of  self  to  the  freedom  of  soul  life;  to  have  come 
into  living  relation  with  his  surroundings;  to  have 
become  at  one  with  the  All. 

I  have  already  warned  my  hearers,  and  must  once 
more  warn  them  against  the  idea  that  the  teachers 
of  India  preached  a  renunciation  of  the  world  and 
of  self  which  leads  only  to  the  blank  emptiness  of 
negation.  Their  aim  was  the  realisation  of  the  soul, 
or,  in  other  words,  gaining  the  world  in  perfect  truth. 
When  Jesus  said,  "Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they 
shall  inherit  the  earth,"  he  meant  this.  He  pro- 
claimed the  truth  that  when  man  gets  rid  of  his  pride 
of  self  then  he  comes  into  his  true  inheritance.  No 
more  has  he  to  fight  his  way  into  his  position  in  the 
world;  it  is  secure  for  him  everywhere  by  the  im- 
mortal right  of  his  soul.  Pride  of  self  interferes 
with  the  proper  function  of  the  soul  which  is  to  realise 
itself  by  perfecting  its  union  with  the  world  and  the 
world's  God. 

In  his  sermon  to  Sadhu  Simha  Buddha  says,  It 
is  true,  Simha,  that  I  denounce  activities,  but  only  the 
activities  that  lead  to  the  evil  in  words,  thoughts,  or  deeds. 


3^ 


SADHANA 


II 


11 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


33 


It  is  true,  Simha,  that  I  preach  extinction,  hut  only  the 
extinction  of  pride,  lust,  evil  thought,  and  ignorance,  7iot 
that  of  forgiveness,  love,  charity,  and  truth. 

The  doctrine  of  deliverance  that  Buddha  preached 
was  the  freedom  from  the  thraldom  of  Avidya. 
Avidyd  is  the  ignorance  that  darkens  our  conscious- 
ness, and  tends  to  limit  it  within  the  boundaries  of 
our  personal  self.  It  is  this  A^jiiM^this  ignorance, 
this  limiting  of  consciousness  that  creates  the  hard 
separateness  of  the  ego,  and  thus  becomes  the  source 
of  all  pride  and  greed  and  cruelty  incidental  to  self- 
seeking.  When  a  man  sleeps  he  is  shut  up  within 
the  narrow  activities  of  his  physical  life.  He  lives, 
but  he  knows  not  the  varied  relations  of  his  life  to 
his  surroundings, — therefore  he  knows  not  himself. 
So  when  a  man  lives  the  life  of  Avidyd  he  is  confined 
within  his  self.  It  is  a  spiritual  sleep;  his  conscious- 
ness Is  not  fully  awake  to  the  highest  reality  that 
surrounds  him,  therefore  he  knows  not  the  reality  of 
his  own  soul,  "^hfjl  hf 'itt.?ins  ^dhi,i  e  thPtlwpl^- 
enment  from  the  sleep  of  self  to  the  perff:ctIoai:>lcnnT^ 
sciousness,  he  becomes  Buddha. 

Once  I  met  two  ascetics  of  a  certain  religious  sect 
In  a  village  of  Bengal.  "Can  you  tell  me,"  I  asked 
them,  "wherein  lies  the  special  features  of  your 
religion?"  One  of  them  hesitated  for  a  moment 
and  answered,  "It  Is  difficult  to  define  that."  The 
other  said,  "No,  it  is  quite  simple.  We  hold  that 
we  have  first  of  all  to  know  our  own  soul  under  the 


I 


guidance  of  our  spiritual  teacher,  and  when  we  have 
done  that  we  can  find  him,  who  is  the  Supreme  Soul, 
within  us."  "Why  don't  you  preach  your  doctrine 
to  all  the  people  of  the  world?"  I  asked.  "Who- 
ever feels  thirsty  will  of  himself  come  to  the  river," 
was  his  reply.  "But  then,  do  you  find  It  so?  Are 
they  coming?"  The  man  gave  a  gentle  smile,  and 
with  an  assurance  which  had  not  the  least  tinge  of 
Impatience  or  anxiety,  he  said,  "They  must  come, 
one  and  all." 

Yes,  he  is  right,  this  simple  ascetic  of  rural  Bengal. 
Man  is  indeed  abroad  to  satisfy  needs  which  are 
more  to  him  than  food  and  clothing.  He  is  out 
to  find  himself.  Man's  history  is  the  history  of  his 
journey  to  the  unknown  in  quest  of  the  realisation 
of  his  immortal  self — his  soul.  Through  the  rise 
and  fall  of  empires;  through  the  building  up  gigantic 
piles  of  wealth  and  the  ruthless  scattering  of  them 
upon  the  dust;  through  the  creation  of  vast  bodies  ^ 
of  symbols  that  give  shape  to  his  dreams  and  aspira- 
tions, and  the  casting  of  them  away  like  the  play- 
things of  an  outworn  infancy;  through  his  forging 
of  magic  keys  with  which  to  unlock  the  mysteries 
of  creation,  and  through  his  throwing  away  of  this 
labour  of  ages  to  go  back  to  his  workshop  and 
work  up  afresh  some  new  form;  yes,  through  It  all 
man  Is  marching  from  epoch  to  epoch  towards 
the  fullest  realisation  of  his  soul, — the  soul  which 
is  greater  than  the  things   man   accumulates,  the 


34 


SADHANA 


n 


deeds  he  accomplishes,  the  theories  he  builds;  the 
soul  whose  onward  course  is  never  checked  by  death 
or  dissolution.     Man's  mistakes  and  failures  have 
hy  no  means  been  trifling  or  small,  they  have  strewn 
his  path  with  colossal  ruins;  his  sufferings  have  been 
immense,  like  birth-pangs  for  a  giant  child;  they 
are  the  prelude  of  a  fulfilment  whose  scope  is  in- 
finite.    Man  has  gone  through  and  is  still  under- 
going  martyrdoms  in  various  ways,  and  his  institu- 
tions are  the  altars  he  has  built  whereto  he  brings 
his    daily   sacrifices,    marvellous    in    kind    and   stu- 
pendous in  quantity.    All  this  would  be  absolutely 
unmeaning  and  unbearable  if  all  along  he  did  not 
feel  that  deepest  joy  of  the  soul  within  him,  which 
tries  its  divine  strength  by  suflFering  and  proves  its 
exhaustless  riches  by  renunciation.     Yes,  they  are 
coming,  the  pilgrims,  one  and  all— coming  to  their 
true  inheritance  of  the  world;  they  are  ever  broaden- 
ing their  consciousness,  ever  seeking  a  higher  and 
higher  unity,  ever  approaching  nearer  to  the  one 
central  Truth  which  is  all-comprehensive. 
.  M?^'^  poverty  is  abysmal,  his  wants  are  endless. 
^^C5^  ^^"^^5  truly  conscious  of  his  soul.     Till 
then,  the  world  to  him  is  in  a  state  of  continual 
flux— a  phantasm  that  is  and  is  not.     For  a  man 
who  has  realised  his   soul  there  is   a  determinate 
centre  of  the  universe  around  which  all  else  can  find 
its  proper  place,  and  from  thence  only  can  he  draw 
and   enjoy  the   blessedness   of  a   harmonious   life. 


II 


• 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


35 


There  was  a  time  when  the  earth  was  only  a 
nebulous  mass  whose  particles  were  scattered  far 
apart  through  the  expanding  force  of  heat;  when 
she  had  not  yet  attained  her  definiteness  of  form 
:  and  had  neither  beauty  nor  purpose,  but  only  heat 
and  motion.    Gradually,  when  her  vapours  were  con- 
densed into  a  unified  rounded  whole  through  a  force 
that  strove  to  bring  all  straggling  matters  under 
the  control  of  a  centre,   she  occupied  her  proper 
place  among  the  planets  of  the  solar  system,  jike  an, 
emeraJLd_peiidarit  in  a  necklace  of  diamcmi^   So  with 
our   soul.     When    the   heat   and   motion   of  blind 
impulses  and  passions  distract  it  on  all  sides,  we  can 
neither  give  nor  receive  anything  truly.    But  when 
we  find  our  centre  in  our  soul  by  the  power  of  self- 
restraint,  by  the  force  that  harmonises  all  warring 
elements  and  unifies  those  that  are  apart,  then  all  our 
isolated  impressions  reduce  themselves  to  wisdom, 
\  and  all  our  momentary  impulses  of  heart  find  their 
f  completion  in  love;  then  all  the  petty  details  of  our 
life  reveal  an  infinite  purpose,  and  all  our  thoughts 
and  deeds  unite  themselves  inseparably  in  an  internal 
harmony. 
1      The  Upanishads  say  with  great  emphasis.  Know 
thou  the  One,  the  Soul}    It  is  the  bridge  leading  to 
the  immortal  being} 

This  is  the  ultimate  end  of  man,  to  find  the  One 
which  is  in  him;  which  is  his  truth,  which  is  his 

*Tainevaikam  janatha  atmanam.  •Amritasyaisha  sctuh. 


A 


36 


SADHANA 


II 


II 


soul;  the  key  with  which  he  opens  the  gate  of  the 
spiritual  life,  the  heavenly  kingdom.  His  desires  are 
many,  and  madly  they  run  after  the  varied  objects  of 
the  world,  for  therein  they  have  their  life  and  fulfil- 
ment. But  that  which  is  one  in  him  is  ever  seeking 
for  unity — unity  in  knowledge,  unity  in  love,  unity 
in  purposes  of  will;  its  highest  joy  is  when  it  reaches 
the  infinite  one  within  its  eternal  unity.  Hence  the 
saying  of  the  Upanishad,  Only  those  of  tranquil 
minds ^  and  none  else,  can  attain  abiding  joy^  by  realising 
within  their  souls  the  Being  who  manifests  one  essence 
in  a  multiplicity  of  forms} 

Through  all  the  diversities  of  the  world  the  one 
in  us  is  threading  its  course  towards  the  one  in  all; 
.this  is  its  nature  and  this  is  its  joy.  But  by  that 
devious  path  it  could  never  reach  its  goal  if  it  had 
not  a  light  of  its  own  by  which  it  could  catch  the 
sight  of  what  it  was  seeking  in  a  flash.  The  vision 
of  the  Supreme  One  in  our  own  soul  is  a  direct  and 
immediate  intuition,  not  based  on  any  ratiocination 
or  demonstration  at  all.  Our  eyes  naturally  see  an 
object  as  a  whole,  not  by  breaking  it  up  into  parts, 
but  by  bringing  all  the  parts  together  into  a  unity 
with  ourselves.  So  with  the  intuition  of  our  Soul- 
consciousness,  which  naturally  and  totally  realises 
its  unity  in  the  Supreme  One. 

Says  the  Upanishad:  This  deity  who  is  manifesting 

»  Ekam  rupam  bahudha  yah  karoti  *  *  tarn  atmastham  ye  anupa^r- 
anti  dihrah,  tesham  sukham  9a9vatam  netaresham. 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


37 


1 


himself  in  the  activities  of  the  universe  always  dwells  in 
the  heart  of  man  as  the  supreme  soul.  Those  who  realise 
him  through  the  immediate  perception  of  the  heart 
attain  immortality} 

He  is  Vishvakarma;  that  is,  in  a  multiplicity  of 
forms  and  forces  lies  his  outward  manifestation  in 
nature;  but  his  inner  manifestation  in  our  soul  is 
that  which  exists  in  unity.  Our  pursuit  of  truth  in 
_the  domain  of  nature  therefore js  through  axiglygig  - 
and  the  gradual  methods  of  science^  but  our  appre-  -^ 
hgnsion  of  truth  in  our  soul  is  Immediate  and  through 
direct  intuition.  We  cannot  attain  the  supreme  soul 
by  successive  additions  of  knowledge  acquired  bit  by 
bit  even  through  all  eternity,  because  he  is  one,  he 
is  not  made  up  of  parts;  we  can  only  know  him  as 
heart  of  our  hearts  and  soul  of  our  soul;  we  can 
only  know  him  in  the  love  and  joy  we  feel  when  we 
give  up  our  self  and  stand  before  him  face  to  face. 

The  deepest  and  the  most  earnest  prayer  that  has 
ever  risen  from  the  human  heart  has  been  uttered 
in  our  ancient  tongue:  0  thou  self -revealing  one, ' 
reveal  theyself  in  me}  We  are  in  misery  because  we 
are  creatures  of  self — the  self  that  is  unyielding  and 
narrow,  that  reflects  no  light,  that  is  blind  to  the 
infinite.  Our  self  is  loud  with  its  own  discordant 
clamour — it  is  not   the  tuned  harp   whose   chords 

^  Esha  devo  vishvakarma  mahatma  sada  jananam  hridaye  sannl- 
vishtah.  Hrida  manlsha  manasabhiklripto  ya  etad  viduramritaste 
bhavanti. 

*  Aviravirmayedhi, 


38 


SADHANA 


II 


vibrate  with  the  music  of  the  eternal.  Sighs  of 
discontent  and  weariness  of  failure,  idle  regrets  for 
the  past  and  anxieties  for  the  future  are  troubling 
our  shallow  hearts  because  we  have  not  found  our 
souls,  and  the  self-revealing  spirit  has  not  been 
manifest  within  us.  Hence  our  cry,  0  thou  awful 
one,  save  me  with  thy  smile  of  grace  ever  and  evermore} 
It  is  a  stifling  shroud  of  death,  this  self-gratification, 
this  insatiable  greed,  this  pride  of  possession,  this 
insolent  alienation  of  heart.  Rudra,  0  thou  awful 
one,  rend  this  dark  cover  in  twain  and  let  the  saving 
beam  of  thy  smile  of  grace  strike  through  this  night  of 
gloom  and  waken  my  soul. 

From  unreality  lead  me  to  the  real,  from  darkness 
to  the  light,  from  death  to  immortality}  But  how  can 
one  hope  to  have  this  prayer  granted?  For  infinite 
is  the  distance  that  lies  between  truth  and  untruth, 
between  death  and  deathlessness.  Yet  this  measure- 
Y  less  gulf  is  bridged  in  a  moment  when  the  self- 
^^  revealing  one  reveals  himself  in  the  soul.  There 
the  miracle  happens,  for  there  is  the  meeting-ground 
of  the  finite  and  infinite.     Father,  completely  sweep 

Caway  all  my  sins  !  ^  For  in  dojjian^takes^ajtjvith 
the  finite  against  the  infinite  that  is  in  him.  It  is 
the  defeat  of  his  soul  by  his  self.  It  is  a  perilously 
losing  game,  in  which  man  stakes  his  all  to  gain  a 

^  Rudra  yat  te  dakshinam  mukham  tena  mam  pahi  nityam. 
'  Asatoma  sadgamaya,  tamasoma  jyotirgamaya,  mrityorma  mntanga« 
maya. 

'  Vishvanldeva  savltar  duratani  parasuva. 


U 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


39 


part.  Sin  is  the  blurring  of  truth  which  clouds  the 
purity  of  our  consciousness.  In  sin  we  lust  after 
pleasures,  not  because  they  are  truly  desirable,  but 
because  the  red  light  of  our  passion  makes  them 
appear  desirable;  we  long  for  things  not  because  they 
are  great  in  themselves,  but  because  our  greed  ex- 
aggerates them  and  makes  them  appear  great. 
These  exaggerations,  these  falsifications  of  the  per- 
spective of  things,  break  the  harmony  of  our  life  at 
every  step;  we  lose  the  true  standard  of  values  and 
are  distracted  by  the  false  claims  of  the  varied  in- 
terests of  life  contending  with  one  another.  It  is 
this  failure  to  bring  all  the  elements  of  his  nature 
under  the  unity  and  control  of  the  Supreme  One 
that  makes  man  feel  the  pang  of  his  separation  from 
God  and  gives  rise  to  the  earnest  prayer,  0  God,  0 
Father,  completely  sweep  away  all  our  sins}  Give 
unto  us  that  which  is  good,^  the  good  .which  is  the 
daily  bread  of  our  souls.  In  our  pleasures  we  are 
confined  to  ourselves,  in  the  good  we  are  freed  and 
we  belong  to  all.  As  the  child  in  its  mother's  womb 
gets  its  sustenance  through  the  union  of  its  life  with 
the  larger  life  of  its  mother,  so  our  soul  is  nourished 
only  through  the  good  which  is  the  recognition 
of  its  inner  kinship,  the  channel  of  its  communi- 
cation with  the  infinite  by  which  it  is  surrounded 
and  fed.    Hence  it  is  said,  "Blessed  are  they  which 


*  Vishvani  deva  savitar  duritani  parasuva. 
*  Yad  bhadram  tanna  asuva. 


c/% 


40 


SADHANA 


n 


/ 


do  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness:  for  they 
shall  be  filled."  For  righteousness  is  the  divine 
food  of  the  soul;  nothing  but  this  can  fill  him,  can 
make  him  live  the  life  of  the  infinite,  can  help  him 
in  his  growth  towards  the  eternal.  We  bow  to  thee 
from  whom  come  the  enjoyments  of  our  life}  We  how 
also  to  thee  from  whom  comes  the  good  of  our  soul} 
We  bow  to  thee  who  art  good,  the  highest  good,^  in  whom 
we  are  united  with  everything,  that  is,  in  peace  and 
harmony,  in  goodness  and  love. 

Man's  cry  is  to  reach  his  fullest  expression.  It 
IS  this  desire  for  self-expression  that  leads  him  to 
seek  wealth  and  power.  But  he  has  to  discQverjhat 
accumulation  is  not  realisation.  It  is  the  inner  light 
that  reveals  him,  not  outer  things.  When  this  light 
is  lighted,  then  in  a  moment  he  knows  that  Man's 
highest  revelation  is  God's  own  revelation  in  him. 
And  his  cry  is  for  this — the  manifestation  of  his 
soul,  which  is  the  manifestation  of  God  in  his  soul. 
Man  becomes  perfect  man,  he  attains  his  fullest 
expression,  when  his  soul  realises  itself  in  the  Infinite 
being  who  is  Avih  whose  very  essence  is  expression. 

The  real  misery  of  man  is  in  the  fact  that  he  has 
not  fully  come  out,  that  he  is  self-obscured,  lost  in 
the  midst  of  his  own  desires.  He  cannot  feel  him- 
self beyond  his  personal  surroundings,  his  greater 
self  is  blotted  out,  his   truth   is   unrealised.     The 

*  Namah  sambhavaya.  *  Namah  9ankarayacha. 

*  Namah  ^ivayacha,  9ivataraya  cha. 


I 


[  f 


II 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


41 


prayer  that  rises  up  from  his  whole  being  Is  therefore, 
Thou,  who  art  the  spirit  of  manifestation,  manifest 
thyself  in  me}  This  longing  for  the  perfect  expres- 
sion of  his  self  is  more  deeply  inherent  in  man  than 
his  hunger  and  thirst  for  bodily  sustenance,  his  lust 
for  wealth  and  distinction.  This  prayer  Is  not  merely 
one  born  individually  of  him;  it  Is  In  the  depth  of 
all  things,  it  is  the  ceaseless  urging  in  him  of  the  Avih, 
of  the  spirit  of  eternal  manifestation.  The  re.veak 
ment  of  the  infinite  in  the  finite^  ^]^^  ^^  ^^^  motive 
of  all  creation,  Is  not  seen  in  its  perfection  in  the 
starry  heavens.  In  the  beauty  of  the  flowers.  It  is 
In  the  soul  of  man.  For  there  will  seeks  Its  manl- 
Testatlon  In  will,  and  freedom  turns  to  win  its  final 
prize  in  the  freedom  of  surrender. 

Therefore,  it  Is  the  self  of  man  which  the  great 
King  of  the  universe  has  not  shadowed  with  his 
throne — he  has  left  it  free.  In  his  physical  and 
mental  organism,  where  man  Is  related  with  nature, 
he  has  to  acknowledge  the  rule  of  his  King,  but  in 
his  self  he  Is  free  to  disown  him.  There  our  God 
must  win  his  entrance.  There  he  comes  as  a  guest, 
not  as  a  king,  and  therefore  he  has  to  wait  till  he 
Is  Invited.  It  is  the  man's  self  from  which  God  has 
withdrawn  his  commands,  for  there  he  comes  to  court 
our  love.  His  armed  force,  the  laws  of  nature,  stand 
outside  Its  gate,  and  only  beauty,  the  messenger  of 
his  love,  finds  admission  within  Its  precincts. 

*  AVUIAVIRMAYEDHI. 


42 


SADHANA 


n 


II 


SOUL  CONSCIOUSNESS 


43 


l^r 


It  IS  only  in  this  region  of  will  that  anarchy  is 
permitted;  only  in  man's  self  that  the  discord  of 
untruth  and  unrighteousness  hold  its  reign;  and 
things  can  come  to  such  a  pass  that  we  may  cry  out 
in  our  anguish,  "Such  utter  lawlessness  could  never 
prevail  if  there  were  a  God!"  Indeed,  God  has 
stood  aside  from  our  self,  where  his  watchful  patience 
knows  no  bounds,  and  where  he  never  forces  open 
the  doors  if  shut  against  him.  For  this  self  of  ours 
has  to  attain  its  ultimate  meaning,  which  is  the  soul, 
not  through  the  compulsion  of  God's  power  but 
through  love,  and  thus  become  united  with  God  in 
freedom. 

He  whose  spirit  has  been  made  one  with  God 
stands  before  man  as  the  supreme  flower  of  humanity. 
There  man  finds  in  truth  what  he  is;  for  there  the 
Avih  is  revealed  to  him  in  the  soul  of  man  as  the 
most  perfect  revelation  for  him  of  God;  for  there 
we  see  the  union  of  the  supreme  will  with  our  will, 
our  love  with  the  love  everlasting. 

Therefore,  in  our  country  he  who  truly  loves  God 
receives  such  homage  from  men  as  would  be  con- 
sidered almost  sacrilegious  in  the  west.  We  see 
in  him  God's  wish  fulfilled,  the  most  diflScult  of  all 
obstacles  to  his  revealment  removed,  and  God's 
own  perfect  joy  fully  blossoming  in  humanity. 
Through  him  we  find  the  whole  world  of  man  over- 
spread with  a  divine  homeliness.  His  life,  burning 
with  God's   love,   makes  all  our  earthly  love  re- 


splendent.  All  the  intimate  associations  of  oui  . 
life,  all  its  experience  of  pleasure  and  pain,  group' 
themselves  around  this  display  of  the  divine  love, 
and  from  the  drama  that  we  witness  in  him.  The 
touch  of  an  infinite  mystery  passes  over  the  trivial 
and  the  familiar,  making  it  break  out  into  ineffable 
music.  The  trees  and  the  stars  and  the  blue  hills 
appear  to  us  as  symbols  aching  with  a  meaning 
which  can  never  be  uttered  in  words.  We  seem  to 
watch  the  Master  in  the  very  act  of  creation  of  a 
new  world  when  a  man's  soul  draws  her  heavy 
curtain  of  self  aside,  when  her  veil  is  lifted  and  she  is 
face  to  face  with  her  eternal  lover. 

But  what  is  this  state?     It  is  like  a  morning  of 
spring,  varied  in  its  life  and  beauty,  yet  one  and 
entire.    When  a  man's  life  rescued  from  distractions 
finds  its  unity  in  the  soul,  then  the  consciousness  of 
the  infinite  becomes  at  once  direct  and  natural  to  it 
as  the  light  is  to  the  flame.     All  the  conflicts  and 
contradictions  of  life  are  reconciled;  knowledge,  love, 
and  action  harmonized;  pleasure  and  pain  become 
one  in  beauty,  enjoyment  and  renunciation  equal  in 
goodness;  the  breach  between  the  finite  and  the 
Infinite  fills  with  love  and  overflows;  every  moment 
carries  Its  message  of  the  eternal;  the  formless  appears 
to  us  In  the  form  of  the  flower,  of  the  fruit;  the  bound- 
less takes  us  up  in  his  arms  as  a  father  and  walks  by 
our  side  as  a  friend.    It  Is  only  the  soul,  the  OOT  In 
man  which  by  Its  very  nature  can  overcome  all  limits, 


44 


SADHANA 


II 


and  finds  its  affinity  with  the  Supreme  One.  While 
yet  we  have  not  attained  the  internal  harmony, 
and  the  wholeness  of  our  being,  our  life  remains  a 
life  of  habits.  The  world  still  appears  to  us  as  a 
machine,  to  be  mastered  where  it  is  useful,  to  be 
guarded  against  where  it  is  dangerous,  and  never 
to  be  known  in  its  full  fellowship  with  us,  alike  in  its 
physical  nature  and  in  its  spiritual  life  and  beauty. 


^^ 


i 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


<■  4 


45 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


V 


The  question  why  there  is  evil  in  existence  is  the 
same  as  why  there  is  imperfection,  or,  in  other  words, 
why  there  is  creation  at  all.  We  must  take  it  for 
granted  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise;  that  creation 
must  be  imperfect,  must  be  gradual,  and  that  it  is 
futile  to  ask  the  question,  Why  we  are? 

But  this  is  the  real  question  we  ought  to  ask: 
Iff  thi§  imperfectiou^ihg^nal  truth,  is  evil  absolute 
and  ultimate?     The   river  has   its  boundaries,   its 


banks,  but  is  a  river  all  banks?  or  are  the  banks  the 
final  facts  about  the  river?  Do  not  these  obstruc- 
tions themselves  give  its  water  an  onward  motion? 
The  towing  rope  binds  a  boat,  but  is  the  bondage  its 
meaning?  Does  it  not  at  the  same  time  draw  the 
boat  forward  ? 

The  current  of  the  world  has  its  boundaries, 
otherwise  it  could  have  no  existence,  but  its  purpose 
is  not  shown  in  the  boundaries  which  restrain  it, 
but  in  its  movement,  which  is  towards  perfection. 
The  wonder  is  not  that  there  should  be  obstacles  and 
sufferings  in  this  world,  but  that  there  should  be  law 

47 


/ 


/ 


48 


SADHANA 


in 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


49 


I 


and  order,  beauty  and  joy,  goodness  and  love.  The 
idea  of  God  that  man  has  in  his  being  is  the  wonder 
of  all  wonders.  He  has  felt  in  the  depths  of  his  life 
that  what  appears  as  imperfect  is  the  manifestation 
of  the  perfect;  just  as  a  man  who  has  an  ear  for 
music  realises  the  perfection  of  a  song,  while  in  fact 
he  is  only  listening  to  a  succession  of  notes.  Man  has 
found  out  the  great  paradox  that  what  is  limited  is 
not  imprisoned  within  its  limits;  it  is  ever  moving, 
and  therewith  shedding  its  finitude  every  moment. 
In  fact,  imperfection  is  not  a  negation  of  perfect- 
ness;  finitude  is  not  contradictory  to  infinity:  they 
are  but  completeness  manifested  in  parts,  infinity 
Vevealed  within  bounds. 

Pain,  which  is  the  feeling  of  our  finiteness,  is  not 
a  fixture  in  our  life.  It  is  not  an  end  in  itself,  as 
joy  is.  To  meet  with  it  is  to  know  that  it  has  no 
part  in  the  true  permanence  of  creation.  It  is  what 
error  is  in  our  intellectual  life.  To  go  through  the 
history  of  the  development  of  science  is  to  go  through 
the  maze  of  mistakes  it  made  current  at  different 
times.  Yet  no  one  really  believes  that  science  is 
the  one  perfect  mode  of  disseminating  mistakes. 
The  progressive  ascertainment  of  truth  is  the  im- 
portant thing  to  remember  in  the  history  of  science, 
not  its  innumerable  mistakes.  Error,  by  its  nature, 
cannot  be  stationary;  it  cannot  remain  with  truth; 
like  a  tramp,  it  must  quit  its  lodging  as  soon  as  it 
fails  to  pay  its  score  to  the  full. 


As  in  intellectual  error,  so  in  evil  of  any  other 
form,  its  essence  is  impermanence,  for  it  cannot 
accord  with  the  whole.  Every  moment  it  is  being 
corrected  by  the  totality  of  things  and  keeps  chang- 
ing its  aspect.  We  exaggerate  its  importance  by 
imagining  it  as  at  a  standstill.  Could  we  collect  the 
statistics  of  the  immense  amount  of  death  and  putre- 
faction happening  every  moment  in  this  earth,  they 
would  appal  us.  But  evil  is  ever  moving;  with 
all  its  incalculable  immensity  it  does  not  effectually 
clog  the  current  of  our  life;  and  we  find  that  the 
earth,  water,  and  air  remain  sweet  and  pure  for 
living  beings.  All  statistics  consist  of  our  attempts 
to  represent  statically  what  is  in  motion;  and  in 
the  process  things  assume  a  weight  in  our  mind 
which  they  have  not  in  reality.  For  this  reason  a 
man,  who  by  his  profession  is  concerned  with  any 
particular  aspect  of  life,  is  apt  to  magnify  its  pro- 
portions; in  laying  undue  stress  upon  facts  he  loses 
his  hold  upon  truth.  A  detective  may  have  the 
opportunity  of  studying  crimes  in  detail,  but  he  loses 
his  sense  of  their  relative  places  in  the  whole  social 
economy.  When  science  collects  facts  to  illustrate 
the  struggle  for  existence  that  is  going  on  in  the 
kingdom  of  life,  it  raises  a  picture  in  our  minds  of 
"nature  red  in  tooth  and  claw."  But  in  these  mental 
pictures  we  give  a  fixity  to  colours  and  forms  which 
are  really  evanescent.  It  is  like  calculating  the 
weight  of  the  air  on  each  square  inch  of  our  body 


5° 


SADHANA 


III 


I 


to  prove  that  it  must  be  crushingly  heavy  for  us. 
With  every  weight,  however,  there  is  an  adjustment, 
and  we  lightly  bear  our  burden.  With  the  struggle 
for  existence  in  nature  there  is  reciprocity.  There 
is  the  love  for  children  and  for  comrades;  there  is  the 
sacrifice  of  self,  which  springs  from  love;  and  this 
love  is  the  positive  element  in  life. 

If  we  kept  the  search-light  of  our  observation 
turned  upon  the  fact  of  death,  the  world  would  ap- 
pear to  us  like  a  huge  charnel-house;  but  in  the  world 
of  life  the  thought  of  death  has,  we  find,  the  least 
possible  hold  upon  our  minds.  Not  because  it  is 
the  least  apparent,  but  because  it  is  the  negative 
aspect  of  life;  just  as,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we 
shut  our  eyelids  every  second,  it  is  the  openings  of 
the  eyes  that  count.  Life  as  a  whole  never  takes 
death  seriously.  It  laughs,  dances  and  plays,  i 
builds,  hoards  and  loves  in  death's  face.  Only  whe 
we  detach  one  individual  fact  of  death  do  we  see  i 
blankness  and  become  dismayed.  We  lose  sight  df 
the  wholeness  of  a  life  of  which  death  is  part.  It  is 
like  looking  at  a  piece  of  cloth  through  a  microscope. 
It  appears  like  a  net;  we  gaze  at  the  big  holes  and 
shiver  in  imagination.  But  the  truth  is,  death  is 
not  the  ultimate  reality.  It  looks  black,  as  the  sky 
looks  blue;  but  it  does  not  blacken  existence,  Just 
.as.,llie  sky  dn^s  UQtl^i 
te  bjf: " 

When  we  watch  a  child  trying  to  walk,  we  see  its 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


51 


I 


countless  failures;  its  successes  are  but  few.  If  we 
had  to  limit  our  observation  within  a  narrow  space 
of  time,  the  sight  would  be  cruel.  But  we  find  that 
in  spite  of  its  repeated  failures  there  is  an  impetus 
of  joy  in  the  child  which  sustains  it  in  its  seemingly 
impossible  task.  We  see  it  does  not  think  of  its  falls 
so  much  as  of  its  power  to  keep  its  balance  though 
for  only  a  moment. 

Like  these  accidents  in  a  child's  attempts  to  walk, 
we  meet  with  sufferings  in  various  forms  in  our  life 
every  day,  showing  the  imperfections  in  our  knowl- 
edge and  our  available  power,  and  in  the  application 
of  our  will.  But  if  these  revealed  our  weakness  to 
us  only,  we  should  die  of  utter  depression.  When 
we  select  for  observation  a  limited  area  of  our  activi- 
ties, our  individual  failures  and  miseries  loom  large 
in  our  minds;  but  our  life  leads  us  instinctively  to 
take  a  wider  view.  It  gives  us  an  ideal  of  perfec- 
tion which  ever  carries  us  beyond  our  present  limi- 
tations. Within  us  we  have  a  hope  which  always 
walks  in  front  of  our  present  narrow  experience; 
it  is  the  undying  faith  in  the  infinite  in  us;  it  will 
never  accept  any  of  our  disabilities  as  a  permanent 
fact;  it  sets  no  limit  to  its  own  scope;  it  dares  to 
assert  that  man  has  oneness  with  God;  and  its  wild 
dreams  become  true  every  day. 

We  see  the  truth  when  we  set  our  mind  towards 
the  infinite.  The  ideal  of  truth  is  not  in  the  narrow 
present,  not  in  our  immediate  sensations,  but  in  the 


s^ 


SADHANA 


in 


^  consciousness  of  the  whole  which  gives  us  a  taste  o\ 
what  we  should  have  in  what  we  do  have.  Consciously 
or  unconsciously  we  have  in  our  life  this  feeling  of 
Truth  which  is  ever  larger  than  its  appearance;  for 
our  life  is  facing  the  infinite,  and  it  is  in  movement. 
Its  aspiration  is  therefore  infinitely  more  than  its 
achievement,  and  as  it  goes  on  it  finds  that  no  reali- 
sation of  truth  ever  leaves  it  stranded  on  the  desert 
of  finality,  but  carries  it  to  a  region  beyond.  Evil 
cannot  altogether  arrest  the  course  of  life  on  the 
highway  and  rob  it  of  its  possessions.  For  the 
evil  has  to  pass  on,  it  has  to  grow  into  good;  it  cannot 
stand  and  give  battle  to  the  All.  If  the  least 
evil  could  stop  anywhere  indefinitely,  it  would 
sink  deep  and  cut  into  the  very  roots  of  existence. 
As  it  is,  man  does  not  really  believe  in  evil,  just  as  he 
cannot  believe  that  violin  strings  have  been  purposely 
made  to  create  the  exquisite  torture  of  discordant 
notes,  though  by  the  aid  of  statistics  it  can  be  mathe- 
matically proved  that  the  probability  of  discord  is 
far  greater  than  that  of  harmony,  and  for  one  who 
can  play  the  violin  there  are  thousands  who  cannot. 
The  potentiality  of  perfection  outweighs  actual  con- 
tradictions. No  doubt  there  have  been  people  who 
asserted  existence  to  be  an  absolute  evil,  but  man 
can  never  take  them  seriously.  Their  pessimism 
is  a  mere  pose,  either  intellectual  or  sentimental; 
but  life  itself  is  optimistic:  it  wants  to  go  on.  Pes- 
simism is  a  form  of  mental  dipsomania,  it  disdains 


I 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


S3 


healthy  nourishment,  indulges  in  the  strong  drink  of 
denunciation,  and  creates  an  artificial  dejection  which 
thirsts  for  a  stronger  draught.  If  existence  were  an 
evil,  it  would  wait  for  no  philosopher  to  prove  it. 
It  is  like  cbnvicting  a  man  of  suicide,  while  all  the 
time  he  stands  before  you  in  the  flesh.  Existence 
itself  is  here  to  prove  that  it  cannot  be  an  evil. 

An  imperfection  which  is  not  all  imperfection, 
but  which  has  perfection  for  its  ideal,  must  go  through 
a  perpetual  realisation.  Thus,  it  is  the  function  of 
our  intellect  to  realise  the  truth  through  untruths, 
and  knowledge  is  nothing  but  the  continually  burn- 
ing up  of  error  to  set  free  the  light  of  truth.  Our 
will,  our  character,  has  to  attain  perfection  by  con- 
tinually overcoming  evils,  either  inside  or  outside 
us,  or  both;  our  physical  life  is  consuming  bodily 
materials  every  moment  to  maintain  the  life  fire; 
and  our  moral  life  too  has  its  fuel  to  burn.  This 
life  process  is  going  on — we  know  it,  we  have  felt 
it;  and  we  have  a  faith  which  no  individual  instances 
to  the  contrary  can  shake,  that  the  direction  of 
humanity  is  from  evil  to  good.  For  we  feel  that 
good  is  the  positive  element  in  man's  nature,  and  in 
every  age  and  every  clime  what  man  values  most  is 
his  ideal  of  goodness.  We  have  known  the  good, 
we  have  loved  it,  and  we  have  paid  our  highest 
reverence  to  men  who  have  shown  in  their  lives  what 
goodness  is. 

The  question  will  be  asked,  What  is  goodness; 


"X" 


54 


SADHANA 


III 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


-" — what  does  our  moral   nature  mean?     My  answer 
(       is,  that  when  a  man  begins  to  have  an  extended 
1       vision  of  his  self,  when  he  realises  that  he  is  muchj 
1       more  than  at  present  he  seems  to  be,  he  begins  to| 
T^  get  conscious  of  his  moral  nature.     Then  he  grows 
aware  of  that  which  he  is  yet  to  be,  and  the  state 
not  yet  experienced  by  him  becomes  more  real  than 
^    that  under  his  direct  experience.     Necessarily,  his 
perspective  of  life  changes,  and  his  will  takes  the' 
place  of  his  wishes.    For  will  is  the  supreme  wish  of 
the  larger  life,  the  life  whose  greater  portion  is  out 
of  our  present  reach,  most  of  whose  objects  are  not 
before  our  sight.     Then  comes  the  conflict  of  our 
lesser  man  with  our  greater  man,   of  our  wishes 
with  our  will,  of  the  desire  for  things  affecting  our 
senses  with  the  purpose  that  is  within  our  heart. 
Then   we   begin   to   distinguish   between   what  we 
f*  immediately  desire  and  what  is  good.     For  good  is 
I    that  which  is  desirable  for  our  greater  self.     Thus 
the  sense  of  goodness  comes  out  of  a  truer  view  of 
our  life,  which  is  the  connected  view  of  the  whole- 
ness of  the  field  of  life,  and  which  takes  into  account 
not  only  what  is  present  before  us  but  what  is  not, 
and  perhaps  never  humanly  can  be.^  Man,  who  is 
provident,  feels  for  that  life  of  his  which  is  not  yet 
existent,  feels  much  more  for  that  than  for  the  life 
that  is  with  him;  therefore  he  is  ready  to  sacrifice 
his  present  inclination  for  the  unrealised  future.    In 
this  he  becomes  g:reat,  for  he  realises  truth.    Even  to 


Si 


^ 


be  efficiently  selfish  one  has  to  recognise  this  truth, 
and  has  to  curb  his  immediate  impulses — in  other 
words,  has  to  be  moral,     ^nr  r^"r  mortal  firnlty  ii 
thgjaculty  bjT  whick.we,  know  th^t  li'f^  iV<^  ^pt  TTlitidfi 
up   of  fragments,   purposeless   and   discontinuous. 
This  moral  sense  of  man  not  only  gives  him  the 
power  to  see  that  the  self  has  a  continuity  in  time, 
but  it  also  enables  him  to  see  that  he  is  not  true 
when  he  is  only  restricted  to  his  own  self.     He  is 
more  in  truth  than  he  is  in  fact.    He  truly  belongs 
to  individuals  who  are  not  included  in  his  own  in- 
dividuality, and  whom  he  is  never  even  likely  to 
know.    As  he  has  a  feeling  for  his  future  self  which 
is  outside  his  present  consciousness,  so  he  has  a 
feeling  for  his  greater  self  which  is  outside  the  limits 
of  his  personality.    There  is  no  man  who  has  not 
this  feeling  to  some  extent,  who  has  never  sacrificed 
his  selfish  desire  for  the  sake  of  some  other  person, 
who  has  never  felt  a  pleasure  in  undergoing  some  loss 
or  trouble  because  it  pleased  somebody  else.     It  is 
a  truth  that  man  is  not  a  detached  being,  that  he 
has  a  universal  aspect;  and  when  he  recognises  this, 
he  becomes  great.     Even  the  most  evilly-disposed 
selfishness  has  to  recognise  this  when  it  seeks  the 
power  to  do  evil;  for  it  cannot  ignore  truth  and 
yet  be  strong.    So  in  order  to  claim  the  aid  of  truth, 
selfishness  has  to  be  unselfish  to  some  extent.     A 
band  of  robbers  must  be  moral  in  order  to  hold  to- 
gether as  a  band;  they  may  rob  the  whole  world 


I 


S6 


SADHANA 


ux 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


57 


but  not  each  other.  To  make  an  immoral  intention 
successful,  some  of  its  weapons  must  be  moral. 
In  fact,  very  often  It  is  our  very  moral  strength  which 
gives  us  most  effectively  the  power  to  do  evil,  to 
exploit  other  individuals  for  our  own  benefit,  to  rob 
other  people  of  their  just  rights.  The  life  of  an  ani- 
mal is  unmoral,  for  it  is  aware  only  of  an  immediate 
present;  the  life  of  a  man  can  be  immoral,  but  that 
only  means  that  it  must  have  a  moral  basis.  What  > 
IS  immoral  is  imperfectly  moral,  just  as  what  is  false  y^ 
IS  true  to  a  small  extent,  or  it  cannot  even  be  false. 
Not  to  see  is  to  be  blind,  but  to  see  wrongly  is  to 
see  only  in  an  imperfect  manner.  Man's  selfishness 
is  a  beginning  to  see  some  connection,  some  purpose 
in  life;  and  to  act  in  accordance  with  its  dictates 
requires  self-restraint  and  regulation  of  conduct.  A 
selfish  man  willingly  undergoes  troubles  for  the  sake 
of  the  self,  he  suffers  hardship  and  privation  without 
a  murmur,  simply  because  he  knows  that  what  is 
pain  and  trouble,  looked  at  from  the  point  of  view 
of  a  short  space  of  time,  are  just  the  opposite  when 
seen  in  a  larger  perspective.  Thus  what  is  a  loss  to 
the  smaller  man  is  a  gain  to  the  greater,  and  vice 
versa. 

To  the  man  who  lives  for  an  idea,  for  his  country, 
for  the  good  of  humanity,  life  has  an  extensive  mean- 
ing, and  to  that  extent  pain  becomes  less  important 
to  him.  To  live  the  life  of  goodness  is  to  live  the  life 
of  all.    Pleasure  is  for  one's  own  self,  but  goodness 


is  rnncerned  with  jh^  happiness  of  all  humanity 

and  for  all  time..  Jjrom  the  point  of  view  of  the  good, 
pleasure  and  pain  appear  in  a  different  meaning; 
so  much  so,  that  pleasure  may  be  shunned,  and  pain 
be  courted  in  its  place,  and  death  itself  be  made 
welcome  as  giving  a  higher  value  to  life.    From  these 
higher  standpoints  of  a  man's  life,  the  standpoints 
of  the  good,  pleasure  and  pain  lose  their  absolute 
value.    Martyrs  prove  it  in  history,  and  we  prove 
it  every  day  in  our  life  in  our  little  martyrdoms. 
When  we  take  a  pitcherful  of  water  from  the  sea  it 
has  its  weight,  but  when  we  take  a  dip  into  the  sea 
itself  a  thousand  pitchersful  of  water  flow  above 
our  head,  and  we  do  not  feel  their  weight.    We  have 
to  carry  the  pitcher  of  self  with  our  strength;  and  so, 
while  on  the  plane  of  selfishness  pleasure  and  pain 
have  their  full  weight,  on  the  moral  plane  they  are 
so  much  lightened  that  the  man  who  has^  reached  it 
appears  to  us  almost  superhuman  in  his  patience  , 
under  crushing  trials,  and   his  forbearance  In  th^j 
face  of  malignant  persecution. 

ToJiye  in  perfect  goodness  is  to  realise  one's  life^ 
in  the  infinltiv^^IZrhis  is  the  most  comprehensive 
view  of  life  which  we  can  have  by  our  inherent 
power  of  the  moral  vision  of  the  wholeness  of  life. 
And  the  teaching  of  Buddha  is  to  cultivate  this 
moral  power  to  the  highest  extent,  to  know  that  our 
field  of  activities  Is  not  bound  to  the  plane  of  our 
narrow  self.     This  is  the  vision  of  the  heavenly 


S8 


sadhanA 


III 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


59 


kingdom  of  Christ.  When  we  attain  to  that  uni* 
versal  life,  which  is  the  moral  life,  we  become  freed 
from  bonds  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  the  place 
vacated  by  our  self  becomes  filled  with  an  unspeak- 
able joy  which  springs  from  measureless  love.  In  this 
state  the  soul's  activity  is  all  the  more  heightened, 
only  its  motive  power  is  not  from  desires,  but  in  its 
own  joy.  ^This  is  the  Karma-yoga  of  the  Gita^  the 
way  to  become  one  with  the  infinite  activity  by 
"the  exercise  of  the  activity  of  disinterested  good- 
ness. 

When  Buddha  meditated  upon  the  way  of  releasing 
mankind  from  the  grip  of  misery  he  came  to  this 
truth:  that  when  man  attains  his  highest  end  by 
merging  the  individual  in  the  universal,  he  becomes 
free  from  the  thraldom  of  pain.  Let  us  consider 
this  point  more  fully. 

A  student  of  mine  once  related  to  me  his  adventure 
in  a  storm,  and  complained  that  all  the  time  he 
was  troubled  with  the  feeling  that  this  great  com- 
motion in  nature  behaved  to  him  as  if  he  were  no 
more  than  a  mere  handful  of  dust.  That  he  was  a 
distinct  personality  with  a  will  of  his  own  had  not 
the  least  influence  upon  what  was  happening. 

I  said,  "If  consideration  for  our  individuality 
could  sway  nature  from  her  path,  then  it  would  be 
the  individuals  who  would  suffer  most." 

But  he  persisted  in  his  doubt,  saying  that  there 
was  this  fact  which  could  not  be  ignored — the  feeling 


n 


that  I  am.    The  "I"  in  us  seeks  for  a  relation  which 

is  individual  to  it.  / 

I  replied  that  the  relation  of  the  "I"  is  with  some-     /  ^ 
thing  which  is  "  not-I. "    So  we  must  have  a  medium 
which  is  common  to  both,  and  we  must  be  absolutely    i 
certain  that  it  is  the  same  to  the  "I"  as  it  is  to  the  J^ 

"not-I." 

This  is  what  needs  repeating  here.  We  have  to 
keep  in  mind  that  our  individuality  by  its  nature  is 
impelled  to  seek  for  the  universal.  Our  body  can 
only  die  if  it  tries  to  eat  its  own  substance,  and  our 
eye  loses  the  meanin^uoUisJjLU^^ 

see  itself.    , 

Just  as  we  find  that  the  stronger  the  imagination 
the  less  is  it  merely  imaginary  and  the  more  is  it  in 
harmony  with  truth,  so  we  see  the  more  vigorous 
our  individuality  the  more  does  it  widen  towards  the 
universal.  For  the  greatness  of  a  personality  is  not 
in  Itself  but  In  its  content,  which  is  universal,  just  as 
the  depth  of  a  lake  is  judged  not  by  the  size  of  its 
cavity  but  by  the  depth  of  Its  water. 

So,  If  It  Is  a  truth  that  the  yearning  of  our  nature 
is  for  reality,  and  that  our  personality  cannot  be 
happy  with  a  fantastic  universe  of  its  own  creation, 
then  It  Is  clearly  best  for  It  that  our  will  can  only 
deal  with  things  by  following  their  law,  and  cannot 
do  with  them  just  as  It  pleases.  This  unyielding 
sureness  of  reality  sometimes  crosses  our  will,  and 
very  often  leads  us  to  Hi<;astp.r,  just  as  the  firnias^ajj 


6o 


SADHANA 


in 


the  earth  invariably  hurts  the  falling  child  who  is 
learning  to  walL  Nevertheless  it  is  the  same  firm* 
ness  that  hurts  him  which  makes  his  walking  possible. 
Once,  while  passing  under  a  bridge,  the  mast  of  my 
boat  got  stuck  in  one  of  its  girders.  If  only  for  a 
moment  the  mast  would  have  bent  an  inch  or  two, 
or  the  bridge  raised  its  back  like  a  yawning  cat,  or 
the  river  given  in,  it  would  have  been  all  right  with 
me.  But  they  took  no  notice  of  my  helplessness. 
That  is  the  very  reason  why  I  could  make  use  of  the 
river,  and  sail  upon  it  with  the  help  of  the  mast,  and 
that  is  why,  when  its  current  was  inconvenient,  I 
could  rely  upon  the  bridge.  Things  are  what  they 
are,  and  we  have  to  know  them  if  we  would  deal  with 
them,  and  knowledge  of  them  is  possible  because  our 
wish  is  not  their  law.  This  knowledge  is  a  joy  to  us, 
for  the  knowledge  is  one  of  the  channels  of  our  rela- 
tion with  the  things  outside  us;  it  is  making  them 
our  own,  and  thus  widening  the  limit  of  our  self. 
.JVt  every  step  we  hav€  to  take  into  account  others 

-^Hwi-ouisdxes.  For  only  in  death  are  we  alone.  A 
poet  is  a  true  poet  when  he  can  make  his  personal 
idea  joyful  to  all  men,  which  he  could  not  do  if  he 
had  not  a  medium  common  to  all  his  audience.  This 
common  language  has  its  own  law  which  the  poet 
must  discover  and  follow,  by  doing  which  he  becomes 
true  and  attains  poetical  immortality. 
I      We  see  then  that  man's  individuality  is  not  his 

I  highest  truth;  there  is  that  in  him  which  is  universal. 


Ill 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


6i 


If  he  were  made  to  live  in  a  world  where  his  own 
self  was  the  only  factor  to  consider,  then  that  would 
be  the  worst  prison  imaginable  to  him,  for  man's 
deepest  joy  is  in  growing  greater  and  greater  by 
more  and  more  union  with  the  all.  This,  as  we 
have  seen,  would  be  an  impossibility  if  there  were  no 
law  common  to  all.  Only  by  discovering  the  law 
and  following  it,  do  we  become  great,  do  we  realise 
the  universal;  while,  so  long  as  our  individual  desires 
are  at  conflict  with  the  universal  law,  we  suffer  pain 

and  are  futile. 

There  was  a  time  when  we  prayed  for  special 
concessions,  we  expected  that  the  laws  of  nature 
should  be  held  in  abeyance  for  our  own  convenience. 
But  now  we  know  better.    We  know  that  law  cannot 
be  set  aside,  and  in  this  knowledge  we  have  become 
strong.     For  this  law  is  not  something  apart  from 
us;  it  is  our  own.     The  universal  power  which  is 
manifested  in  the  universal  law  is  one  with  our  own 
power.    It  will  thwart  us  where  we  are  small,  where 
we  are  against  the  current  of  things;  but  it  will 
help  us  where  we  are  great,  where  we  are  in  unison 
with  the  all.    Thus,  through  the  help  of  science,  as 
we  come  to  know  more  of  the  laws  of  nature,  we 
gain  in  power;  we  tend  to  attain  a  universal  body. 
Our  organ  of  sight,  our  organ  of  locomotion,  our 
physical  strength  becomes  world-wide;  steam  and 
electricity  become  our  nerve  and  muscle.    Thus  we 
find  that,  just  as  throughout  our  bodily  organisation 


\ 


6t 


SADHANA 


III 


'I 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


63 


there  is  a  principle  of  relation  by  virtue  of  which  we 
can  call  the  entire  body  our  own,  and  can  use  it  as 
such,  so  all  through  the  universe  there  Is  that  principle 
of  uninterrupted  relation  by  virtue  of  which  we  can 
call  the  whole  world  our  extended  body  and  use  It 
accordingly.  And  In  this  age  of  science  It  Is  our 
endeavour  fully  to  establish  our  claim  to  our  world- 
self.  We  know  all  our  poverty  and  sufferings  are 
owing  to  our  Inability  to  realise  this  legitimate  claim 
of  ours.  Really,  there  is  no  limit  to  our  powers, 
for  we  are  not  outside  the  universal  power  which 
is  the  expression  of  universal  law.  We  are  on  our 
way  to  overcome  disease  and  death,  to  conquer 
pain  and  poverty;  for  through  scientific  knowledge 
we  are  ever  on  our  way  to  realise  the  universal  in  its 
physical  aspect.  And  as  we  make  progress  we  find  1 
that  pain,  disease,  and  poverty  of  power  are  not 
absolute,  but  that  it  Is  only  the  want  of  adjustment 
of  our  individual  self  to  our  universal  self  which 
gives  rise  to  them. 

It  is  the  same  with  our  spiritual  life.  When  the 
individual  man  In  us  chafes  against  the  lawful  rule 
of  the  universal  man  we  become  morally  small,  and 
we  must  suffer.  In  such  a  condition  our  successes 
are  our  greatest  failures,  and  the  very  fulfilment  of 
our  desires  leaves  us  poorer.  We  hanker  after  special 
gains  for  ourselves,  we  want  to  enjoy  privileges 
which  none  else  can  share  with  us.  But  everything 
that  is  absolutely  special  must  keep  up  a  perpetual 


warfare  with  what  is  general.  In  such  a  state  of 
civil  war  man  always  lives  behind  barricades,  and 
in  any  civilisation  which  is  selfish  our  homes  are  not 
real  homes,  but  artificial  barriers  around  us.  Yet 
we  complain  that  we  are  not  happy,  as  if  there  were 
something  Inherent  in  the  nature  of  things  to  make 
us  miserable.  The  universal  spirit  is  waiting  to 
crown  us  with  happiness,  but  our  individual  spirit 
would  not  accept  it.  It  is  our  life  of  the  self  that 
causes  conflicts  and  complications  everywhere,  upsets 
the  normal  balance  of  society  and  gives  rise  to  miser- 
ies of  all  kinds.  It  brings  things  to  such  a  pass  that  to  ? 
maintain  order  we  have  to  create  artificial  coercions^ 
and  organised  forms  of  tyranny,  and  tolerate  infernal 
institutions  in  our  midst,  whereby  at  every  momeni 
humanity  is  humiliated. 

We  have  seen  that  in  order  to  be  powerful  wl 
have  to  submit  to  the  laws  of  the  universal  forces, 
and  to  realise  in  practice  that  they  are  our  own. 
So,  in  order  to  be  happy,  we  have  to  submit  our 
Individual  will  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  universal 
will,  and  to  feel  in  truth  that  it  is  our  own  will. 
When  we  reach  that  state  wherein  the  adjustment  of 
the  finite  in  us  to  the  infinite  is  made  perfect,  then 
pain  itself  becomes  a  valuable  asset.  It  becomes  a 
measuring  rod  with  which  to  gauge  the  true  value  of 

our  joy. 

The  most  important  lesson  that  man  can  learn 
from  his  life  is  not  that  there  is  pain  in  this  world, 


m 


64 


SADHANA 


in 


but  that  it  depends  upon  him  to  turn  it  inW  gi7f>fi- 
accouat,  that  it  is  possible  for  him  to  transmute  it. 

^nto  joy.  That  lesson  has  not  been  lost  altogether 
to  us,  and  there  is  no  man  living  who  would  willingly 
be  deprived  of  his  right  to  suifer  pain,  for  that  is 
his  right  to  be  a  man.  One  day  the  wife  of  a  poor 
labourer  complained  bitterly  to  me  that  her  eldest 
boy  was  going  to  be  sent  away  to  a  rich  relative's 
house  for  part  of  the  year.  It  was  the  implied  kind 
intention  of  trying  to  relieve  her  of  her  trouble  that 
gave  her  the  shock,  for  a  mother's  trouble  is  a 
mother's  own  by  her  inalienable  right  of  love,  and 
she  was  not  going  to  surrender  it  to  any  dictates  of 
expediency.  Man's  freedom  is  never  in  being  saved 
troubles,  but  it  is  the  freedom  to  take  trouble  for  his 
own  good,  to  make  the^^rouble  an  element  in  hjs^ 

„  joy. _  It  can  be  made  so  only  when  we  realise  that 
our  individual  self  is  not  the  highest  meaning  of  our 
being,  that  in  us  we  have  the  world-man  who  is 
immortal,  who  is  not  afraid  of  death  or  sufferings, 
and  who  looks  upon  pain  as  only  the  other  side  of 
joy.  He  who  has  realised  this  knows  that  it  is  pain 
which  is  our  true  wealth  as  imperfect  beings,  and 
has  made  us  great  and  worthy  to  take  our  seat  with 
the  perfect.  He  knows  that  we  are  not  beggars; 
that  it  is  the  hard  coin  which  must  be  paid  for  every- 
thing valuable  in  this  life,  for  our  power,  our  wisdom, 
our  love;  that  in  pain  is  symbolised  the  infinite 
possibility  of  perfection,   the  eternal  unfolding  of 


III 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  EVIL 


6S 


joy;  and  the  man  who  loses  all  pleasure  in  accepting 
pain  sinks  down  and  down  to  the  lowest  depth  of 
penury  and  degradation.  It  is  only  when  we  invoke 
the  aid  of  pain  for  our  self-gratification  that  she 
becomes  evil  and  takes  her  vengeance  for  the  insult 
done  to  her  by  hurling  us  into  misery.  For  she  is 
the  vestal  virgin  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the 
immortal  perfection,  and  when  she  takes  her  true 
place  before  the  altar  of  the  infinite  she  casts  off  her 
dark  veil  and  bares  her  face  to  the  beholder  as  a 
revelation  of  supreme  joy. 


I 


H' 


i> 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 

At  one  pole  of  my  being  I  am  one  with  stocks  aiid 
stones.  There  J.  Ji^ve Jta--acknowledge  the  rule  .of., 
universal  law.  That  is  where  the  foundation  of  my 
existence  lies,  deep  down  below.  Its  strength  lies  in 
its  being  held  firm  in  the  clasp  of  the  comprehensive 
world,  and  in  the  fullness  of  its  community  with  all 
things. 

But  at  the  other  pole  of  my  being  I  am  separate 
from  all.  There  I  have  broken  through  the  cordon 
of  equality  and  stand  alone  as  an  individual.  I  am 
absolutely  unique,  I  am  I,  I  am  incomparable.  The 
whole  weight  of  the  universe  cannot  crush  out  this 
individuality  of  mine.  I  maintain  it  in  spite  of  the 
tremendous  gravitation  of  all  things.  It  is  small  in 
appearance  but  great  in  reality.  For  it  holds  its 
own  against  the  forces  that  would  rob  it  of  its  dis- 
tinction and  make  it  one  with  the  dust. 

This  is  the  superstructure  of  the  self  which  rises 
from  the  indeterminate  depth  and  darkness  of  its 
foundation  into  the  open,  proud  of  its  isolation, 
proud  of  having  given  shape  to  a  single  individual 

69 


70 


SADHANA 


IV 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


71 


idea  of  the  architect's  which  has  no  duplicate  in  the 
whole  universe.  If  this  individuality  be  demolished, 
then  though  no  material  be  lost,  not  an  atom  de- 
stroyed, the  creative  joy  which  was  crystallised  therein 
is  gone.  We  are  absolutely  bankrupt  if  we  are  de- 
prived of  this  specialty,  this  individuality,  which  is 
the  only  thing  we  can  call  our  own;  and  which,  if 
lost,  is  also  a  loss  to  the  whole  world.  It  is  most 
valuabk J^ecausfiLitJs^  And  therefore 

only  through  it  can  we  gain  the  universe  more  truly 
than  if  we  were  lying  within  its  breast  unconscious 
of  our  distinctiveness.  The  universal  is  ever  seeking 
its  consummation  in  the  unique.  And  the  desire  we 
have  to  keep  our  uniqueness  intact  is  really  the  de- 
sire of  the  universe  acting  in  us.  It  is  our  joy  of  the 
infinite  in  us  that  gives  us  our  joy  in  ourselves. 

That  this  separateness  of  self  is  considered  by  man 
"as  his  most  precious  possession  is  proved  by  the 
sufferings  he  undergoes  and  the  sins  he  commits  for 
its  sake.  But  the  consciousness  of  separation  has 
come  from  the  eating  of  the  fruit  of  knowledge.  It 
has  led  man  to  shame  and  crime  and  death;  yet  it  is 
dearer  to  him  than  any  paradise  where  the  self  lies, 
securely  slumbering  in  perfect  innocence  in  the  womb 
of  mother  nature.  ' 

It  is  a  constant  striving  and  suffering  for  us  to 
maintain  the  separateness  of  this  self  of  ours.  And 
in  fact  it  is  this^  suflFering  which  measures  its  value. 
One  side  of  the  value  is  sacrifice,  which  represents 


how  much  the  cost  has  been.  The  other  side  of  it 
is  the  attainment,  which  represents  how  much  has 
been  gained.  If  the  self  meant  nothing  to  us  but 
pain  and  sacrifice,  it  could  have  no  value  for  us,  and 
on  no  account  would  we  willingly  undergo  such  sacri- 
fice. In  such  case  there  could  be  no  doubt  at  all 
that  the  highest  object  of  humanity  would  be  the 
annihilation  of  self. 

But  if  there  is  a  corresponding  gain,  if  it  does 
not  end  in  a  void  but  in  a  fullness,  then  it  is  clear 
that  its  negative  qualities,  its  very  sufferings  and 
sacrifices,  make  it  all  the  more  precious.  That  it  is 
so  has  been  proved  by  those  who  have  realised  the 
positive  significance  of  self,  and  have  accepted  its 
responsibilities  with  eagerness  and  undergone  sacri- 
fices without  flinching. 

With  the  foregoing  introduction  it  will  be  easy 
for  me  to  answer  the  question  once  asked  by  one  of 
my  audience  as  to  whether  the  annihilation  of  self 
has  not  been  held  by  India  as  the  supreme  goal  of 
humanity.? 

In  the  first  place  we  must  keep  in  mind  the  fact 
that  man  is  never  literal  in  the  expression  of  his 
ideas,  except  in  matters  most  trivial.  Very  often 
man's  words  are  not  a  language  at  all,  but  merely  a 
vocal  gesture  of  the  dumb.  They  may  indicate, 
but  do  not  express  his  thoughts.  The  more  vital  his 
thoughts  the  more  have  his  words  to  be  explained 
by  the  context  of  his  life.    Those  who  seek  to  know 


\ 


\ 


72 


SADHANA 


IV 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


73 


his  meaning  by  the  aid  of  the  dictionary  only  technic- 
ally reach  the  house,  for  they  are  stopped  by  the 
outside  wall  and  find  no  entrance  to  the  hall.  This 
is  the  reason  why  the  teachings  of  our  greatest 
prophets  give  rise  to  endless  disputations  when  we 
try  to  understand  them  by  following  their  words  and 
not  by  realising  them  in  our  own  lives.  The  men 
who  are  cursed  with  the  gift  of  the  literal  mind  are 
the  unfortunate  ones  who  are  always  busy  with  their 
nets  and  neglect  the  fishing. 

It  is  not  only  in  Buddhism  and  the  Indian  religions, 
but  in  Christianity  too,  that  the  ideal  of  selflessness 
is  preached  with  all  fervour.  In  the  last  the  symbol 
of  death  has  been  used  for  expressing  the  idea  of 
man's  deliverance  from  the  life  which  is  not  true. 
This  is  the  same  as  Nirvana,  the  symbol  of  the 
extinction  of  the  lamp. 

In  the  typical  thought  of  India  it  is  held  that  the 
true  deliverance  of  man  is  the  deliverance  from 
avidya,  from  ignorance.  It  is  not  in  destroying 
anything  that  is  positive  and  real,  for  that  cannot  be 
possible,  but  that  which  is  negative,  which  obstructs 
our  vision  of  truth.  When  this  obstruction,  which 
is  ignorance,  is  removed,  then  only  is  the  eyelid 
drawn  up  which  is  no  loss  to  the  eye. 

It  is  our  ignorance  which  makes  us  think  that  our 
self,  as  self,  is  real,  that  it  has  its  complete  meaning 
in  itself.  When  we  take  that  wrong  view  of  self  then 
we  try  to  live  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  self  the 


, 


ultimate  object  of  our  life.  Then  are  we  doomed  to 
disappointment  like  the  man  who  tries  to  reach  his 
destination  by  firmly  clutching  the  dust  of  the 
road.  Our  self  has  no  means  of  holding  us,  for  its 
own  nature  is  to  pass  on;  and  by  clinging  to  this 
thread  of  self  which  is  passing  through  the  loom  of 
life  we  cannot  make  it  serve  the  purpose  of  the  cloth 
into  which  it  is  being  woven.  When  a  man,  with 
elaborate  care,  arranges  for  an  enjoyment  of  the 
self,  he  lights  a  fire  but  has  no  dough  to  make  his 
bread  with;  the  fire  flares  up  and  consumes  itself  to 
extinction,  like  an  unnatural  beast  that  eats  its  own 
progeny  and  dies. 

In  an  unknown  language  the  words  are  tyrannically 
prominent.  They  stop  us  but  say  nothing.  To  be 
rescued  from  this  fetter  of  words  wp  tt>i,is^  rjd  our- 


_  idya^ciuv  ignorancCi  and  thrn  our, 

mind  will  fiqd  its  freedom  in  the  inner  idea.  But  it 
would  be  foolish  to  say  that  our  ignorance  of  the 
language  can  be  dispelled  only  by  the  destruction  of 
the  words.  No,  when  the  perfect  knowledge  comes, 
every  word  remains  in  its  place,  only  they  do  not 
bind  us  to  themselves,  but  let  us  pass  through  them 
and  lead  us  to  the  idea  which  is  emancipation. 

Thus  it  is  only  avidyd  which  makes  the  self  our 
fetter  by  making  us  think  that  it  is  an  end  in  itself, 
and  by  preventing  our  seeing  that  it  contains  the 
idea  that  transcends  its  limits.  That  is  why  the  wise 
man  comes  and  says,  "  Set  yourselves  free  from  the 


i 


74 


SADHANA 


It 


avidyd;  know  your  true  soul  and  be  saved  from  the 
grasp  of  the  self  which  imprisons  you." 

We  gain  our  freedom  when  we  attain  our  truest 
nature.  The  man  who  is  an  artist  finds  his  artistic 
*~ffeeHom  when  he  finds  his  ideal  of  art.  Then  is  he 
freed  from  laborious  attempts  at  imitation,  from  the 
goadings  of  popular  approbation.  It  is  the  function 
of  religion  not  to  destroy  our  nature  but  to  fulfil  it. 

I —  The  Sanskrit  word  dharma  which  is  usually  trans- 
lated into  English  as  religion  has  a  deeper  meaning  in 
our  language.  Dharma  is  the  innermost  nature^ 
the  essence,  the  implicit  truth,  of  all  things.  Dharma 
is  the  ultimate  purpose  that  is  working  in  our  self. 

4jL    When  any  wrong  is  done  we  say  that  dharma  is 
violated,  meaning  that  the  lie  has  been  given  to  our 
I     true  nature. 

But  this  dharma^  which  is  the  truth  in  us,  is  not 
apparent,  because  it  is  inherent.  So  much  so,  that 
it  has  been  held  that  sinfulness  is  the  nature  of  man, 
and  only  by  the  special  grace  of  God  can  a  particular 
person  be  saved.  This  is  like  saying  that  the  nature 
of  the  seed  is  to  remain  enfolded  within  its  shell, 
and  it  is  only  by  some  special  miracle  that  it  can  be 
grown  into  a  tree.  But  do  we  not  know  that  the 
appearance  of  the  seed  contradicts  its  true  nature? 
When  you  submit  it  to  chemical  analysis  you  may 
find  in  it  carbon  and  proteid  and  a  good  many  other 
things,  but  not  the  idea  of  a  branching  tree.  Only 
when  the  tree  begins  to  take  shape  do  you  come 


( 


. 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF   SELF 


75 


/ 


to  see  its  dharma^  and  then  you  can  afiirm  without 
doubt  that  the  seed  which  has  been  wasted  and  al- 
lowed to  rot  in  the  ground  has  been  thwarted  in 
its  dharma^  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  true  nature.  In 
the  history  of  humanity  we  have  known  the  living 
seed  In  us  to  sprout.  We  have  seen  the  great  pur- 
pose in  us  taking  shape  in  the  lives  of  our  greatest 
men,  and  have  felt  certain  that  though  there  are 
numerous  individual  lives  that  seem  ineffectual, 
still  it  is  not  their  dharma  to  remain  barren;  but  it 
is  for  them  to  burst  their  cover  and  transform  them- 
selves into  a  vigorous  spiritual  shoot,  growing  up 
into  the  air  and  light,  and  branching  out  in  all 

directions. 

The  freedom  of  the  seed  is  in  the  attainment  of 
its  dharma^  its  nature  and  destiny  of  becoming  a 
tree;  it  is  the  non-accomplishment  which  is  its 
prison.  The  sacrifice  by  which  a  thing  attains  its 
fulfilment  is  not  a  sacrifice  which  ends  in  death;  it 
is  the  casting-off  of  bonds  which  wins  freedom. 

When_we  know  the  highest  ideal  of  freedom/ 
which  a  man  has,  we  know  his  dharma^  the  essence! 
"of  his  nature; 'tlirreanneaning  of  his  self.  At  first  I 
sight  it  seems  that  ma'n'counts  that  as  freedom  by 
which  he  gets  unbounded  opportunities  of  self- 
gratification  and  self-aggrandisement.  But  surely 
this  is  not  borne  out  by  history.  Our  revelatory 
men  have  always  been  those  who  have  lived  the  life 
of  self-sacrifice.    The  higher  nature  in  man  always 


76 


SADHANA 


n 


4 


seeks  for  something  which  transcends  itself  and  yet 
is  its  deepest  truth;  which  claims  all  its  sacrifice, 
yet  makes  this  sacrifice  its  own  recompense.  This 
is  man's  dharma,  man's  religion,  and  man's  self  is 
the  vessel  which  is  to  carry  this  sacrifice  to  the  altar. 
We  can  look  at  our  self  in  its  two  different  aspects.  \ 


f  he  self  which  displays  Itself^  anri  tk^  i^^lf  wVijp}^ 


transcends  itself  and  thereby  reveals  its  own  me^xi- 
ing.  To  display  itself  it  tries  to  be  big,  to  stand  upon 
'the  pedestal  of  its  accumulations,  and  to  retain 
everything  to  itself.  To  reveal  itself  it  gives  up 
everything  it  has,  thus  becoming  perfect  like  a 
flower  that  has  blossomed  out  from  the  bud,  pourings 
from  Its  chance  oT  beauty  all  its  sv^^^tr^fSn - 


The  lamp  contains  its  oil,  which  it  holds  securely  ' 
in  its  close  grasp  and  guards  from  the  least  loss. 
Thus  is  it  separate  from  all  other  objects  around  it 
and  is  miserly.  But  when  lighted  it  finds  its  meaning 
at  once;  its  relation  with  all  things  far  and  near  is 
established,  and  it  freely  sacrifices  its  fund  of  oil  to 
feed  the  flame. 

Such  a  lamp  is  our  self.  So  long  as  it  hoards  its 
possessions  it  keeps  itself  dark,  its  conduct  contra- 
dicts its  true  purpose.  When  it  finds  illumination 
it  forgets  itself  in  a  moment,  holds  the  light  high, 
and  serves  it  with  everything  it  has;  for  therein  is 
its  revelation.  Tbi^x£3.:£laLlion  is  the^frppd^TrL-«4»^h — 
Buddha  preached.  He  asked  the  lamp  to  give  up 
its  oil.    But  purposeless  giving  up  is  a  still  darker 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF   SELF 


77 


• 


♦ 


poverty  which  he  never  could  have  meant.  The 
lamp  must  give  up  its  oil  to  the  light  and  thus  set 
free  the  purpose  it  has  in  its  hoarding.  This  is 
emancipation.  The  path  Buddha  pointed_oi 
not  merely  the  practice  of  self-abjoeg^ation .  hut. 
widening  of  love.  And  therein  lies  the  true  meani 
of^uddha's  ^preaching. 

When"  we  find  that  the  state  of  Nirvana  preached 
by  Buddha  is  through  love,  then  we  know  for  certain 
that  Nirvana  is  the  highest  culmination  of  love. 
For  love  is  an  end  unto  itself.  Everything  else 
raises  the  question  "Why?"  in  our  mind,  and  we 
require  a  reason  for  it.  But  when  we  say,  "I  love," 
then  there  is  no  room  for  the  "why";  it  is  the  final 
answer  in  itself. 

Doubtless,  even  selfishness  impels  one  to  give 
away.  But  the  selfish  man  does  it  on  compulsion. 
That  is  like  plucking  fruit  when  it  is  unripe;  you 
have  to  tear  it  from  the  tree  and  bruise  the  branch. 
But  when  a  man  loves,  giving  becomes  a  matter  of 
joy  to  him,  like  the  tree's  surrender  of  the  ripe  fruit. 
All  our  belongings  assume  a  weight  by  the  ceaseless 
gravitation  of  our  selfish  desires;  we  cannot  easily 
cast  them  away  from  us.  They  seem  to  belong  to 
our  very  nature,  to  stick  to  us  as  a  second  skin,  and 
we  bleed  as  we  detach  them.  But  when  we  are 
possessed  by  love,  its  force  acts  in  the  opposite 
direction.  The  things  that  closely  adhered  to  us 
lose  their  adhesion  and  weight,  and  we  find  that 


L^ 


78 


SADHANA 


n 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


79 


they  are  not  of  us.  Far  from  being  a  loss  to  give 
them  away,  we  find  in  that  the  fulfilment  of  our 
being. 

Thus  we  find  in  perfect  love  the  freedom  of  our 
self.  That  only  which  is  done  for  love  is  done  freely, 
however  much  pain  it  may  cause.  Therefore  work- 
ing for  lo/e  is  freedom  in  action.  This  is  the  meaning 
of  the  teaching  of  disinterested..wx)xJ^-ia  the  Qliam- 

The  Gita  says  action  we  must  have,  for  only  in 
action  do  we  manifest  our  nature.  But  this  mani- 
festation is  not  perfect  so  long  as  our  action  is  not 
free./'in  fact,  our  nature  is  obscured  by  work  done 
by  the  compulsion  of  want  or  fear.  .  The  mother 
reveals  herself  in  the  service  of  her  children,  so  our 
true  freedom  is  not  the  freedom  from  action  but 
freedom  in  action,  which  can  only  be  attained  in  the 
work  of  love. 

God's  manifestation  is  in  his  work  of  creation, 
and  it  is  said  in  the  Upanishad,  Knowledge,  power, 
and  action  are  of  his  nature;  ^  they  are  not  impose 
upon  him  from  outside.  Therefore  his  work  is  his^ 
freedom,  and  in  his  creation  he  realises  himself. 
The  same  thing  is  said  elsewhere  in  other  words? 
From  joy  does  spring  all  this  creation,  by  joy  is  it 
maintained^  towards  joy  does  it  progress,  and  into  joy 
does  it  enter}     It  means  that  God's  creation  has 


^"Svabhaviki  jnana  bala  kriyacha." 

•A»'a"dadhyeva    khalvimani    bhotani    jayante,    anandena    jatani 
nvantl,  anandamprayantyabhisamvi^anti. 


{' 


not  Its  source  in  any  necessity^  it  c^pfif^g  frnm  f>i& 
fullness  of  joy;  itJ^Als  love  that  crq^^^^s/therfifore 
m  creation  is  his  own  revealment,_ 


•«M«*MiiMa 


The  artist  who  has  a  joy  in  the  fullness  of  his 
artistic  idea  objectifies  it  and  thus  gains  it  more  fully 
by  holding  it  afar.  It  is  joy  which  detaches  ourselves 
from  us,  and  then  gives  it  form  in  creations  of  love 
in  order  to  make  it  more  perfectly  our  own.  Hence 
there  must  be  this  separation,  not  a  separation  of 
repulsion  but  a  separation  of  love.  Repulsion  has 
only  the  one  element,  the  element  of  severance. 
But  love  has  two,  the  element  of  severance,  which 
is  only  an  appearance,  and  the  element  of  union 
which  is  the  ultimate  truth.  Just  as  when  the  father 
tosses  his  child  up  from  his  arms  it  has  the  appear- 
ance of  rejection  but  its  truth  is  quite  the  reverse. 

So  we  must  know  that  the  meaning  of  our  self  is 
not  to  be  found  in  its  separateness  from  God  and 
others,  but  in  the  ceaseless  realisation  of  yogii^  8< 
uniqni^not  on  the  side  of  the  canvas  where  it  is 
blank,  but  on  the  side  where  the  picture  is  being 
painted. 

This  is  the  reason  why  the  separateness  of  our 
self  has  been  described  by  our  philosophers  asjndya, 
as  an  illusion,  because  it  has  no  intrinsic  reality  of 
its  own.  It  looks  perilous;  it  raises  its  isolation  to 
a  giddy  height  and  casts  a  black  shadow  upon  the 
fair  face  of  existence;  from  the  outside  it  has  an 
aspect  of  a  sudden  disruption,  rebellious  and  de- 


ll 


8o 


SADHANA 


If 


structive;  it  is  proud,  domineering  and  wayward; 
it  is  ready  to  rob  the  world  of  all  its  wealth  to  gratify 
its  craving  of  a  moment;  to  pluck  with  a  reckless, 
^niH  ^nnf\  all  thej^umcs  froi^  the  divine  bird  of 
beauty  to  deck  its  ugliness  for  a  day;  indeed  man's 
legend  has  it  that  it  bears  the  black  mark  of  dis- 
obedience stamped  on  its  forehead  for  ever;  but  still 
all  this  is  mdyd,  envelopment  of  avidyd;  it  is  the 
mist,  it  is  not  the  sun;  it  is  the  black  smoke  that 
presages  the  fire  of  love. 

Imagine  some  savage  who,  in  his  ignorance,  thinks 
that  it  is  the  paper  of  the  banknote  that  has  the 
magic,  by  virtue  of  which  the  possessor  of  it  gets 
all  he  wants.  He  piles  up  the  papers,  hides  them, 
handles  them  in  all  sorts  of  absurd  ways,  and  then 
at  last,  wearied  by  his  efforts,  comes  to  the  sad 
conclusion  that  they  are  absolutely  worthless,  only 
fit  to  be  thrown  into  the  fire.  But  the  wise  man 
knows  that  the  paper  of  the  banknote  is  all  mdydy 
and  until  it  is  given  up  to  the  bank  it  is  futile.  Tt^ 
is  only  ayid;ydxS>^^  ignorance,  that  makes  us  believe 
that  the  separateness  of  our  self  like  the  paper  of 
the  banknote  is  precious  in  itself,  and  by  acting  on 
this  belief  our  self  is  rendered  valueless.  It  is  only 
when  the  avidyd  is  removed  that  this  very  self  comes 
to  us  with  a  wealth  which  is  priceless.  For  He 
manifests  Himself  in  forms  which  His  joy  assumes} 
These  forms  are  separate  from  Him,  and  the  value 

^AnandarOpamamritam  yadvjbhati. 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


8i 


that  these  forms  have  is  only  what  his  joy  has 
imparted  to  them.  When  we  transfer  back  these 
forms  into  that  original  joy,  which  is  love,  then  we 
cash  them  in  the  bank  and  we  find  their  truth. 

When  pure  necessity  drives  man  to  his  work  it 
takes  an  accidental  and  contingent  character,  it 
becomes  a  mere  makeshift  arrangement;  it  is  deserted 
and  left  in  ruins  when  necessity  changes  its  course. 
But  when  his  work  is  the  outcome  of  joy,  the  forms 
that  it  takes  have  the  elements  of  immortality.  The 
immortal  in  man  imparts  to  it  its  own  quality  of 
permanence. 

Our  self,  as  a  form  of  God's  joy,  is  deathless,  j 
For  his  joy  is  amritam,  eternal.  This  it  is  in  us 
which  makes  us  sceptical  of  death,  even  when  the 
fact  of  death  cannot  be  doubted.  In  reconcilement 
of  this  contradiction  in  us  we  come  to  the  truth  that 
in  the  dualism  of  death  and  life  there  is  a  harmony. 
We  know  that  the  life  of  a  soul,  which  is  finite  in  its 
expression  and  infinite  in  its  principle,  must  go 
through  the  portals  of  death  in  its  journey  to  realise  ^ 
the  infinite.  It  is  death  which  is  monistic,  it  has  no 
life  in  it.  But  life  is  dualistic;  it  has  an  appearance 
as  well  as  truth;  and  death  is  that  appearance,  that 
mdyd,  which  is  an  inseparable  companion  to  life. 
Our  self  to  live  must  go  through  a  continual  change 
and  growth  of  form,  which  may  be  termed  a  con- 
tinual death  and  a  continual  life  going  on  at  the 
same  time.     It  is  really  courting  death  when  we 


•*-*'"•  ■Ji'LjX 


A-- 


I 
'^1 


82 


SADHANA 


IV 


refuse  to  accept  death;  when  we  wish  to  give  the  form 
of  the  self  some  fixed  changelessness;  when  the 
self  feels  no  impulse  which  urges  it  to  grow  out  of 
itself;  when  it  treats  its  limits  as  final  and  acts 
accordingly.  Then  comes  our  teacher's  call  to  die 
to  this  death;  not  a  call  to  annihilation  but  to  eternal 
life.  It  is  the  extinction  of  the  lamp  in  the  morning 
light;  not  the  abolition  of  the  sun.  It  is  really  asking 
us  consciously  to  give  effect  to  the  innermost  wish 
that  we  have  in  the  depths  of  our  nature. 

We  have  a  dual  set  of  desires  in  our  being,  which 
it  should  be  our  endeavour  to  bring  into  a  harmony. 
In  the  region  of  our  physical  nature  we  have  one 
set  of  which  we  are  conscious  always.  We  wish  to 
enjoy  our  food  and  drink,  we  hanker  after  bodily 
pleasure  and  comfort.  These  desires  are  self-centred; 
they  are  solely  concerned  with  their  respective 
impulses.  The  wishes  of  our  palate  often  run  counter 
to  what  our  stomach  can  allow. 

But  we  have  another  set,  which  is  the  desire  of 
our  physical  system  as  a  whole,  of  which  we  are 
usually  unconscious.  It  is  the  wish  for  health. 
This  is  always  doing  its  work,  mending  and  repairing, 
making  new  adjustments  in  cases  of  accident,  and 
skilfully  restoring  the  balance  wherever  disturbed. 
It  has  no  concern  with  the  fulfilment  of  our  immedi- 
ate bodily  desires,  but  it  goes  beyond  the  present 
time.  It  is  the  principle  of  our  physical  wholeness, 
it  links  our  life  with  its  past  and  its  future  and 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


83 


maintains  the  unity  of  its  parts.  He  who  is  wise 
knows  it,  and  makes  his  other  physical  wishes 
harmonise  with  it. 

We  have  a  greater  body  which  is  the  social. body* 
Society  is  an  organism^  of„\yhich^we  as  parts  have 
our  individual  wishes.  We  want  our  own  pleasure 
and  licence.  We  want  to  pay  less  and  gain  more 
than  anybody  else.  This  causes  scrambllngs  and 
fights.  But  there  Is  that  other  wish  In  us  which  does 
its  work  in  the  depths  of  the  social  being.  It  is  the 
wish  for  the  welfare  of  the  society.  It  transcends 
the  limits  of  the  present  and  the  personal.  It  is 
on  the  side  of  the  infinite. 

He  who  Is  wise  tries  to  harmonise  the  wishes  that 
seek  for  self-gratification  with  the  wish  for  the  social 
good,  and  only  thus  can  he  realise  his  higher  self. 

In  its  finite  aspect  the  self  Is  conscious  of  its  sepa- 
rateness,  and  there  it  Is  ruthless  In  its  attempt  to 
have  more  distinction  than  all  others.  But  in  Its 
Infinite  aspect  its  wish  is  to  gain  that  harmony  which 
leads  to  its  perfection  and  not  its  mere  aggrandise- 
ment. 

The  emancipation  of  our  physiVf\l  KiatttP*  ^"^  ^'" 


attaining  health,  of  our  social^  being  in  attaining 
goodness,  and  of  our  self  in  attaining  love.  This 
last  is  what  Buddha  describes  as  extinction — the 
extinction  of  selfishness — which  is  the  function  of 
love,  and  which  does  not  lead  to  darkness  but  to 
illumination.    This  is  the  attainment  of  bodhLov  the 


HI 


84 


SADHANA 


IV 


true  awakening;  it  is  the  revealing  in  us  of  the 
infinite  joy  by  the  light  of  love. 

The  passage  of  our  self  is  through  its  selfhood^ 
which  is  independent,  to  its  attainment  of  soul, 
which  is  harmonious.  This  harmony  can  never  be 
reached  through  compulsion.  So  our  will,  in  the 
history  of  its  growth,  must  come  through  independ- 
ence and  rebellion  to  the  ultimate  completion.  We 
must  have  the  possibility  of  the  negative  form  of 
freedom,  which  is  licence,  before  we  can  attain  the 
positive  freedom,  which  is  love. 

This  negative  freedom,  the  freedom  of  self-will, 
can  turn  its  back  upon  its  highest  realisation,  but  it 
cannot  cut  itself  away  from  it  altogether,  for  then  it 
will  lose  its  own  meaning.  Our  self-will  has  freedom 
up  to  a  certain  extent;  it  can  know  what  it  is  to 
break  away  from  the  path,  but  it  cannot  continue  in 
that  direction  indefinitely.  For  we  are  finite  on  our 
negative  side.  We  must  come  to  an  end  in  our  evil 
doing,  in  our  career  of  discord.  For  evil  is  not 
infinite,  and  discord  cannot  be  an  end  in  itself. 
Our  will  has  freedom  in  order  that  it  may  find  out 
that  its  true  course  is  towards  goodness  and  love. 
For  goodness  and  love  are  infinite,  and  only  in  the 
infinite  is  the  perfect  realisation  of  freedom  possible. 
So  our  will  can  be  free  not  towards  the  limitations 
of  our  self,  not  where  it  is  mdyd  and  negation,  but 
towards  the  unlimited,  where  is  truth  and  love. 
Our  freedom  cannot  go  against  its  own  principle  of 


I 


^J 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


85 


freedom  and  yet  be  free;  it  cannot  commit  suicide 
and  yet  live.  We  cannot  say  that  we  should  have 
infinite  freedom  to  fetter  ourselves,  for  the  fettering 
ends  the  freedom. 

So  in  the  freedom  of  our  will,  we  have  the  same 
dualism  of  appearance  and  truth — our  self-will  is 
only  the  appearance  of  freedom  and  love  is  the  truth. 
When  we  try  to  make  this  appearance  independent 
of  truth,  then  our  attempt  brings  misery  and  proves 
its  own  futility  in  the  end.  Everything  has  this 
dualism  of  mqya  and  satyam,  appearance  and  truth. 
Words  are  mdyd  where  they  are  merely  sounds  and 
finite,  they  are  satyam  ^wEere  they  are  ideas  and. 
infinite.  Our  self  is  mdyd  where  it  is  merely  in- 
dividual and  finite,  where  it  considers  its  separateness 
as  absolute;  it  is  satyam  where  it  recognises  its 
essence  in  the  universal  and  infinite,  in  the  supreme 
self,  in  paramdtman.  This  is  what  Christ  means 
when  he  says,  "Before  Abraham  was  I  am."  This 
is  the  eternal  /  am  that  speaks  through  the  /  am 
that  is  in  me.  The  individual  /  am  attains  its 
perfect  end  when  it  realises  its  freedom  of  harmony 
in  the  infinite  /  am.  Then  is  it  muktt,  its  deliver- 
ance from  the  thraldom  of  mdyd,  of  appearance, 
which  springs  from  avidyd,  from  ignorance;  its  eman- 
cipation in  cdntam  civam  advaitam,  in  the  perfect 
repose  in  truth,  in  the  perfect  activity  in  goodness, 
and  in  the  perfect  union  in  love. 

Not  only  in  our  self  but  also  in  nature  is  there 


86 


SADHANA 


vf 


this  separateness  from  God,  which  has  been  described 
as  mdyd  by  our  philosophers,  because  the  separate- 
ness does  not  exist  by  itself,  it  does  not  limit  God's 
infinity  from  outside.  It  is  his  own  will  that  has 
imposed  limits  to  itself,  just  as  the  chess-player 
restricts  his  will  with  regard  to  the  moving  of  the 
chessmen.  The  player  willingly  enters  into  definite 
relations  with  each  particular  piece  and  realises  the 
joy  of  his  power  by  these  very  restrictions.  It  is 
not  that  he  cannot  move  the  chessmen  just  as  he 
pleases,  but  if  he  does  so  then  there  can  be  no  play. 
If  GQd..as.&umeJiJli&..  role  of  omniporpnrr., -then  -his— 
creation  is  at  an  end  and  his  power  lo.^es  all  it^  mean, 
ing.  For  power  to  be  a  power  must  act  wit^^^n  limits. 
God's  water  must  be  water,  his  earth  can  never  be 
other  than  earth.  The  law  that  has  made  them  water 
and  earth  is  his  own  law  by  which  he  has  separated 
the  play  from  the  player,  for  therein  the  joy  of  the 
player  consists. 

As  by  the  limits  of  law  nature  is  separated  from 
God,  so  it  is  the  limits  of  its  egoism  which  separates 
the  self  from  him.  He  has  willingly  set  limits  to 
his  will,  and  has  given  us  mastery  over  the  little 
world  of  our  own.  It  is  like  a  father's  settling  upon 
his  son  some  allowance  within  the  limit  of  which  he 
is  free  to  do  what  he  likes.  Though  it  remains  a 
portion  of  the  father's  own  property,  yet  he  frees  it 
from  the  operation  of  his  own  will.  The  reason  of  it 
is  that  the  will,  which  is  love's  will  and  therefore  free, 


IV 


r 
I 


/ 


4 


I , 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


87 


can  have  its  joy  only  in  a  union  with  another  free  will. 
The  tyrant  who  must  have  slaves  looks  upon  them  as 
instruments  of  his  purpose.  It  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  own  necessity  which  makes  him  crush 
the  will  out  of  them,  to  make  his  self-interest  ab- 
solutely secure.  This  self-interest  cannot  brook 
the  least  freedom  in  others,  because  it  is  not  itself 
free.  The  tyrant  is  really  dependent  on  his  slaves, 
and  therefore  he  tries  to  make  them  completely  use- 
ful by  making  them  subservient  to  his  own  will. 
But  a  lover  must  have  two  wills  for  the  realisation  of 
his  love,  because  the  consummation  of  love  is  in  har- 
mony, the  harmony  between  freedom  and  freedom. 
So  God's  love  from  which  our  self  has  taken  form 
has  made  it  separate  from  God;  and  it  is  God's  love 
which  again  establishes  a  reconciliation  and  unites 
God  with  our  self  through  the  separation.  That  is 
why  our  self  has  to  go  through  endless  renewals. 
For  in  its  career  of  separateness  it  cannot  go  on  for 
ever.  Separateness  is  the  finitude  where  it  finds  its 
barriers  to  come  back  again  and  again  to  its  infinite 
source.  Our  self  has  ceaselessly  to  cast  off  its  age,  re- 
peatedly shed  its  limits  in  oblivion  and  death,  in  order 
to  realise  its  immortal  youth.  Its  personality  must 
merge  in  the  universal  time  after  time,  in  fact  pass 
through  it  every  moment,  ever  to  refresh  its  individual 
life.  It  must  follow  the  eternal  rhythm  and  touch  the 
fundamental  unity  at  every  step,  and  thus  maintain 
its  separation  balanced  in  beauty  and  strength. 


m 


i 


i 


I 


88 


SADHANA 


IV 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


89 


V 


^1 


The  play  of  life  and  death  we  see  ever>'where— 
this  transmutation  of  the  old  into  the  new.  The  day 
comes  to  us  every  morning,  naked  and  white,  fresh  as 
a  flower.  But  we  know  it  is  old.  It  is  age  itself. 
It  is  that  very  ancient  day  which  took  up  the  new- 
born earth  in  its  arms,  covered  it  with  its  white 
mantle  of  light,  and  sent  it  forth  on  its  pilgrimage 
among  the  stars. 

Yet  Its  feet  are  untired  and  its  eyes  undimmed. 
It  carries  the  golden  amulet  of  ageless  eternity,  at 
whose  touch  all  wrinkles  vanish  from  the  forehead  of 
creation.  In  the  very  core  of  the  world's  heart 
stands  immortal  youth.  Death  and  decay  cast  over 
its  face  momentary  shadows  and  pass  on;  they  leave 
no  marks  of  their  steps— and  truth  remains  fresh 

and  young. 

This  old,  old  day  of  our  earth  is  born  again  and 
again  every  morning.  It  comes  back  to  the  original 
refrain  of  its  music.  If  its  march  were  the  march  of 
an  infinite  straight  line,  if  it  had  not  the  awful  pause 
of  its  plunge  in  the  abysmal  darkness  and  its  repeated 
rebirth  in  the  life  of  the  endless  beginning,  then  it 
would  gradually  soil  and  bury  truth  with  its  dust 
and  spread  ceaseless  aching  over  the  earth  under  its 
heavy  tread.  Then  every  moment  would  leave  its 
load  of  weariness  behind,  and  decrepitude  would 
reign  supreme  on  its  throne  of  eternal  dirt. 

But  every  morning  the  day  is  reborn  among  the 
newly-blossomed    flowers    with    the    same    message 


i 


retold  and  the  same  assurance  renewed  that  death 
eternally  dies,  that  the  waves  of  turmoil  are  on  the 
surface,  and  that  the  sea  of  tranquillity  is  fathomless. 
The  curtain  of  night  is  drawn  aside  and  truth  emerges 
without  a  speck  of  dust  on  its  garment,  without  a 
furrow  of  age  on  its  lineaments. 

We  see  that  he  who  is  before  everything  else  is 
the  same  to-day.  Every  note  of  the  song  of  creation 
comes  fresh  from  his  voice.  The  universe  is  not  a 
mere  echo,  reverberating  from  sky  to  sky,  like  a 
homeless  wanderer— the  echo  of  an  old  song  sung 
once  for  all  in  the  dim  beginning  of  things  and  then 
left  orphaned.  Every  moment  it  comes  from  the 
heart  of  the  master,  it  is  breathed  in  his  breath. 

And  that  is  the  reason  why  it  overspreads  the  sky 
like  a  thought  taking  shape  in  a  poem,  and  never  has 
to  break  into  pieces  with  the  burden  of  its  own  ac- 
cumulating weight.  Hence  the  surprise  of  endless  va- 
riations, the  advent  of  the  unaccountable,  the  cease- 
less procession  of  individuals,  each  of  whom  is  without 
a  parallel  in  creation.  As  at  the  first  so  to  the  last, 
thsJjeginning  never  endsr-the  worldis,£S£aL-Qid.amL 

^  ever  new. 
""tt  is  for  our  self  to  know  that  it  must  be  born 
anew   every   moment  of   its   life.      It   must  break 
through  all  illusions  that  encase  it  in  their  crust  to 
make  it  appear  old,  burdening  it  with  death. 
^  For  life  is  !mmortaJ.^ystuthfi^^  it  hates  age 

that  tries  to  clog  its  movements— age  that  belongs 


f 


I 


90 


SADHANA 


IV 


not  to  life  in  truth,  but  follows  it  as  the  shadow 
follows  the  lamp. 

Our  life,  like  a  river,  strikes  its  banks  not  to  find 
itself  closed  in  by  them,  but  to  realise  anew  every 
moment  that  it  has  its  unending  opening  towards  the 
sea.  It  is  as  a  poem  that  strikes  its  metre  at  every 
step  not  to  be  silenced  by  its  rigid  regulations,  but 
to  give  expression  every  moment  to  the  inner  free- 
dom of  its  harmony. 

The  boundary  walls  of  our  individuality  thrust  us 
back  within  our  limits,  on  the  one  hand,  and  thus  lead 
us,  on  the  other,  to  the  unlimited.  Only  when  we  try 
to  make  these  limits  infinite  are  we  launched  into 
an   impossible    contradiction    and    court   miserable 

failure. 

This  is  the  cause  which  leads  to  the  great  revolu- 
tions in  human  history.  Whenever  the  part,  spurn- 
ing the  whole,  tries  to  run  a  separate  course  of  its 
own,  the  great  pull  of  the  all  gives  it  a  violent 
wrench,  stops  it  suddenly,  and  brings  it  to  the  dust. 
Whenever  the  individual  tries  to  dam  the  ever-flowing 
current  of  the  world-force  and  imprison  it  within 
the  area  of  his  particular  use,  it  brings  on  disaster. 
However  powerful  a  king  may  be,  he  cannot  raise 
his  standard  or  rebellion  against  the  infinite  source  of 
strength,  which  is  unity,  and  yet  remain  powerful. 

It  has  been  said,  By  unrighteousness  men  prospeVy 
gain  what  they  desire^  and  triumph  over  their  enemies^ 
but  at  the  end  they  are  cut  of  at  the  root  and  suffer 


it 


IV 


THE  PROBLEM  OF  SELF 


91 


extinction}  Our  roots  must  go  deep  down  Into  the 
universal  if  we  would  attain  the  greatness  of  person- 
ality. 

It  is  the  end  of  our  self  to  seek  that  union.  It 
must  bend  its  head  low  in  love  and  meekness  and 
take  its  stand  where  great  and  small  all  meet.  It 
has  to  gain  by  its  loss  and  rise  by  its  surrender. 
His  games  would  be  a  horror  to  the  child  if  he  could 
not  come  back  to  his  mother,  and  our  pride  of  person- 
ality will  be  a  curse  to  us  if  we  cannot  give  it  up  in 
love.  We  must  know  that  it  is  only  the  revelation 
^  of  the  Infinite  which  is  endlessly  new  and  eternally 
beautiful  in  us,  and  which  gives  the  only  meaning 
to  our  self. 

1  Adharmenaidhate  tavat  tato  bhadrani  pa^yati  tatah  sapatnan 
iayati  samulastu  vina9yati. 


m 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


w 


/ 


' 


iiAT 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


We  come  now  to  the  eternal  problem  of  the  co- 
existence of  the  infinite  and  the  finite,  of  the  supreme 
being  and  our  soul.     There  is  the  sublime  paradox 
that  lies  at  the  root  of  existence.     We  never  can 
go  round  it,  because  we  never  can  stand  outside 
the  problem  and  weigh  it  against  any  other  pos- 
sible alternative.     But  the  problem  exists  in  logic 
only;  in  reality  it  does  not  offer  us  any  difficulty 
at  all.    Logically  speaking,  the  distance  between  two 
points,  however  near,  may  be  said  to  be  infinite, 
because  it  is  infinitely  divisible.     But  we  do  cross 
the  infinite  at  every  step,  and  meet  the  eternal  in 
every  second.    Therefore  some  of  our  philosophers 
say  there  is  no  such  thing  as  finitude;  it  is  but^ 
tgayg^  an  illusioii,    The  real  is  the  infinite,  and  it  is 
only  maya^  the  unreality,  which  causes  the  appear- 
ance of  the  finite.    But  the  word  maya  is  a  mere  name, 
it  is  no  explanation.     It  is  merely  saying  that  with 
truth  there  is  this  appearance  which  is  the  opposite 
of  truth;  but  how  they  come  to  exist  at  one  and 
the  same  time  is  incomprehensible. 

95 


96 


sadhanA 


We  have  what  we  call  in   Sanskrit  dvandva^   a 
series  of  opposites  in  creation;  such  as,  the  positive 

1  pole  and  the  negative,  the  centripetal  force  and  the 
centrifugal,  attraction  and  repulsion.    These  are  also 

,  mere  names,  they  are  no  explanations.  They  are 
only  different  ways  of  asserting  that  the  world  in  its 
essence  is  a  reconciliation  of  pairs  of  opposing  forces. 

I  These  forces,  like  the  left  and  the  right  hands  of  the 

I  creator,  are  acting  in  absolute  harmony,  yet  acting 

Ifrom  opposite  directions. 

I  There  is  a  bond  of  harmony  between  our  two 
eyes,  which  makes  them  act  in  unison.  Likewise 
there  is  an  unbreakable  continuity  of  relation  in  the 
physical  world  between  heat  and  cold,  light  and 
darkness,  motion  and  rest,  as  between  the  bass  and 
treble  notes  of  a  piano.  That  is  why  these  opposites 
do  not  bring  confusion  in  the  universe,  but  harmony. 
If  creation  were  but  a  chaos,  we  should  have  to 
imagine  the  two  opposing  principles  as  trying  to  get 
the  better  of  each  other.  But  the  universe  is  not 
under  martial  law,  arbitrary  and  provisional.  Here 
we  find  no  force  which  can  run  amok,  or  go  on 
indefinitely  in  its  wild  road,  like  an  exiled  outlaw, 
breaking  all  harmony  with  its  surroundings;  each 
force,  on  the  contrary,  has  to  come  back  in  a  curved 
line  to  its  equilibrium.  Waves  rise,  each  to  its 
individual  height  in  a  seeming  attitude  of  unrelenting 
competition,  but  only  up  to  a  certain  point;  and 
thus  we  know  of  the  great  repose  of  the  sea  to  which 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


97 


they  are  all  related,  and  to  which  they  must  all 
return  in  a  rhythm  which  is  marvellously  beautiful. 

In  fact,  these  undulations  and  vibrations,  these 
risings  and  fallings,  are  not  due  to  the  erratic  con- 
tortions of  disparate  bodies,  they  are  a  rhythmic 
dance.  Rhythm  never  can  be  born  of  the  haphazard 
struggle  of  combat.  M?i  yndpHyin^  principle  mnst 
l^e^nity,  not  opposition. 

Ty\9.  principle  of  unity'lfj  T^^  m^^^tpry  nf  .all  juv^s^^ 
teries.  The  existence  of  a  duality  at  once  raises 
a  question  in  our  minds,  and  we  seek  its  solution 
in  the  One.  When  at  last  we  find  a  relation  be- 
tween these  two,  and  thereby  see  them  as  one  in 
essence,  we  feel  that  we  have  come  to  the  truth. 
And  then  we  give  utterance  to  this  most  startling  of 
all  paradoxes,  that  the  One  appears  as  many,  that 
the  appearance  is  the  opposite  of  truth  and  yet  is 
inseparably  related  to  it. 

Curiously  enough,  there  are  men  who  lose  that 
feeling  of  mystery,  which  is  at  the  root  of  all  our  \ 
delights,  when  they  discover  the  uniformity  of  law  / 
among  the  diversity  of  nature.  As  if  gravitation  is 
not  more  of  a  mystery  than  the  fall  of  an  apple,  as 
if  the  evolution  from  one  scale  of  being  to  the  other 
is  not  something  which  is  even  more  shy  of  explana- 
tion than  a  succession  of  creations.  The  trouble  is 
that  we  very  often  stop  at  such  a  law  as  if  it  were 
the  final  end  of  our  search,  and  then  we  find  that  it 
does  not  even  begin  to  emancipate  our  spirit.     It 


SADHANA 


y 


only  gives  satisfaction  to  our  intellect,  and  as  it  does 
not  appeal  to  our  whole  being  it  only  deadens  in  us 
the  sense  of  the  infinite. 

A  great  poem,  when  analysed,  is  a  set  of  detached 
sounds.  The  reader  who  finds  out  the  meaning, 
which  is  the  inner  medium  that  connects  these  outer 
sounds,  discovers  a  perfect  law  all  through,  which 
is  never  violated  in  the  least;  the  law  of  the  evolu- 
tion of  ideas,  the  law  of  the  music  and  the  form. 

JBut  law  in LtS£l£_is  a  limit It  only  shows  that 

whatever  is  can  never  be  otherwise.  When  a  man 
is  exclusively  occupied  with  the  search  for  the  links 
of  causality,  his  mind  succumbs  to  the  tyranny  of 
law  in  escaping  from  the  tyranny  of  facts.  In 
learning  a  language,  when  from  mere  words  we 
reach  the  laws  of  words  we  have  gained  a  great 
deal.  But  if  we  stop  at  that  point,  and  only  concern 
ourselves  with  the  marvels  of  the  formation  of  a 
language,  seeking  the  hidden  reason  of  all  its  ap- 
parent caprices,  we  do  not  reach  the  end — for  gram- 
mar is  not  literature,  prosody  is  not  a  poem. 

When  we  come  to  literature  we  find  that  though 
it  conforms  to  rules  of  grammar  it  is  yet  a  thing  of 
joy,  it  is  freedom  itself.  The  beauty  of  a  poem  is 
bound  by  strict  laws,  yet  it  transcends  them.  The 
laws  are  its  wings,  they  do  not  keep  it  weighed 
down,  they  carry  it  to  freedom.  It&Jorm  is  in  kaL- 
but  its  spirit  is  in  beauty.  Law  W  the  firyt  stfn_ 
towards  freedom,  and  beauty  is  the  complete  liberas— 


;; 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


99 


tion  which  stands  on  the  pedestal  ofJ^^£;j,^eauty 
harmonises  in  itself  the  limit  and  the  beyond,  the 
law  and  the  liberty. 

In  the  world-poem,  the  discovery  of  the  law  of 
Its  rhythms,  the  measurement  of  its  expansion  and 
contraction,  movement  and  pause,  the  pursuit  of  its 
evolution  of  forms  and  characters,  are  true  achieve- 
ments of  the  mind;  but  we  cannot  stop  there.  It 
is  like  a  railway  station;  but  the  station  platform 
is  not  our  home.  Only  he  has  attained  the  final  truth 
who  knows  that  the  whole  world  is  a  creation  of  joy. 

This  leads  me  to  think  how  mysterious  the  re- 
lation of  the  human  heart  with  nature  must  be. 
In  the  outer  world  of  activity  nature  has  one  aspect, 
but  in  our  hearts,  in  the  inner  world,  it  presents  an 
i    altogether  different  picture. 

Take  an  instance — the  flower  of  a  plant.  How- 
ever fine  and  dainty  it  may  look,  it  is  pressed  to  do 
a  great  service,  and  its  colours  and  forms  are  all 
suited  to  its  work.  It  must  bring  forth  the  fruit, 
or  the  continuity  of  plant  life  will  be  broken  and 
the  earth  will  be  turned  into  a  desert  ere  long.  The 
colour  and  the  smell  of  the  flower  are  all  for  some 
purpose  therefore;  no  sooner  is  it  fertilised  by  the 
bee,  and  the  time  of  its  fruition  arrives,  than  it  sheds 
its  exquisite  petals  and  a  cruel  economy  compels  it 
to  give  up  its  sweet  perfume.  It  has  no  time  to 
flaunt  its  finery,  for  it  is  busy  beyond  measure. 
Viewed  from  without,  necessity  seems  to  be  the  only 


// 


( 


ICX5 


SADHANA 


factor  in  nature  for  which  everything  works  and 
moves.  There  the  bud  develops  into  the  flower, 
the  flower  into  the  fruit,  the  fruit  into  the  seed,  the 
seed  into  a  new  plant  again,  and  so  forth,  the  chain 
of  activity  running  on  unbroken.  Should  there  crop 
up  any  disturbance  or  impediment,  no  excuse  would 
be  accepted,  and  the  unfortunate  thing  thus  choked 
in  its  movement  would  at  once  be  labelled  as  re- 
jected, and  be  bound  to  die  and  disappear  post- 
haste. In  the  great  office  of  nature  there  are  in- 
numerable departments  with  endless  work  going 
on,  and  the  fine  flower  that  you  behold  there,  gaudily 
attired  and  scented  like  a  dandy,  is  by  no  means 
what  it  appears  to  be,  but  rather,  is  like  a  labourer 
toiling  in  sun  and  shower,  who  has  to  submit  a  clear 
account  of  his  work  and  has  no  breathing  space  to 
enjoy  himself  in  playful  frolic. 

But  when  this  same  flower  enters  the  heart  of 
men  its  aspect  of  busy  practicality  is  gone,  and  it 
becomes  the  very  emblem  of  leisure  and  repose. 
The  same  object  that  is  the  embodiment  of  endless 
activity  without  is  the  perfect  expression  of  beauty 
and  peace  within. 

Science  here  warns  us  that  we  are  mistaken,  that 
the  purpose  of  a  flower  is  nothing  but  what  is  out- 
wardly manifested,  and  that  the  relation  of  beauty 
and  sweetness  which  we  think  it  bears  to  us  is  all 
our  own  making,  gratuitous  and  imaginary. 

But  our  heart  replies  that  we  are  not  in  the  least 


f 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


lOl 


) 


mistaken.  In  the  sphere  of  nature  the  flower  carries 
with  it  a  certificate  which  recommends  it  as  hav- 
ing immense  capacity  for  doing  useful  work,  but 
it  brings  an  altogether  diff'erent  letter  of  introduction 
when  it  knocks  at  the  door  of  our  hearts.  Beauty 
becomes  its  only  qualification.  At  one  place  it  comes 
as  a  slave,  and  at  another  as  a  free  thing.  How, 
then,  should  we  give  credit  to  its  first  recommenda- 
tion and  disbelieve  the  second  one.^  That  the  flower 
has  got  its  being  in  the  unbroken  chain  of  causation 
is  true  beyond  doubt;  but  that  is  an  outer  truth. 

I  TJT^jnrifr  truth  1°*  f^^r^'Jy  fm^  ffi^  everlasting  jov  do 

I    all  objects  have  their  birth} 

(A  flowerptEerefore,  has  not  its  only  function  in 
nature,  but  has  another  great  function  to  exercise  in 
the  mind  of  man.  And  what  is  that  function?  In 
nature  its  work  is  that  of  a  servant  who  has  to 
make  his  appearance  at  appointed  times,  but  in  the 
heart  of  man  it  comes  like  a  messenger  from  the 
King.  In  the  Rdmdyana,  when  Sitd,  forcibly  sepa- 
rated from  her  husband,  was  bewailing  her  evil  fate 
in  Ravana's  golden  palace,  she  was  met  by  a  mes- 
senger who  brought  with  him  a  ring  of  her  beloved 
Ramchandra  himself.  The  very  sight  of  it  con- 
vinced Sitd  of  the  truth  of  the  tidings  he  bore. 
She  was  at  once  reassured  that  he  came  indeed  from 
her  beloved  one,  who  had  not  forgotten  her  and 
was  at  hand  to  rescue  her. 

*  Anandadhyeva  khalvimani  bhQtani  jayante. 


0^ 


) 


I02 


SADHANA 


Such  a  messenger  is  a  flower  from  our  great  lover 
Surrounded  with  the  pomp  and  pageantry  of  worldll- 
ness,  which  may  be  likened  to  Ravana's  golden  city, 
we  still  live  in  exile,  while  the  insolent  spirit  of 
worldly  prosperity  tempts  us  with  allurements  and 
claims  us  as  its  bride.  In  the  meantime  the  flower 
comes  across  with  a  message  from  the  other  shore, 
and  whispers  in  our  ears,  "I  am  come.  He  has 
sent  me.  I  am  a  messenger  of  the  beautiful,  the 
one  whose  soul  is  the  bliss  of  love.  This  island  of 
isolation  has  been  bridged  over  by  him,  and  he  has 
not  forgotten  thee,  and  will  rescue  thee  even  now. 
He  will  draw  thee  unto  him  and  make  thee  his 
own.  This  illusion  will  not  hold  thee  in  thraldom 
for  ever." 

If  we  happen  to  be  awake  then,  we  question  him: 
"How  are  we  to  know  that  thou  art  come  from 
him  indeed?"  The  messenger  says,  "Look!  I 
have  this  ring  from  him.  How  lovely  are  its  hues 
and  charms!" 

Ah,  doubtless  it  is  his — indeed,  it  is  our  wedding 
ring.  Now  all  else  passes  into  oblivion,  only  this 
sweet  symbol  of  the  touch  of  the  eternal  love  fills 
us  with  a  deep  longing.  We  realise  that  the  palace 
of  gold  where  we  are  has  nothing  to  do  with  us — 
our  deliverance  is  outside  it — and  there  our  love 
has  its  fruition  and  our  life  its  fulfilment. 

What  to  the  bee  in  nature  is  merely  colour  and 
scent,  and  the  marks  or  spots  which  show  the  right 


^^ 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


103 


track  to  the  honey,  is  to  the  human  heart  beauty  and 
joy  untrammelled  by  necessity.  They  bring  a  love- 
letter  to  the  heart  written  in  many-coloured  inks. 

I  was  telling  you,  therefore,  that  however  busy 
our  active  nature  outwardly  may  be,  she  has  a  secret 
chamber  within  the  heart  where  she  comes  and  goes 
freely,  without  any  design  whatsoever.     There  the 
fire  of  her  workshop  is  transformed  into  lamps  of  a 
I     festival,  the  noise  of  her  factory  is  heard  like  music. 
/  The  iron  chain  of  cause  and  effect  sounds   heavily 
j  outside  in  nature,  but  in  the  human  heart  its  un- 
alloyed delight  seems  to  sound,  as  it  were,  like  the 
golden  strings  of  a  harp. 

It  indeed  seems  to  be  wonderful  that  nature 
tbf  se  tWQ^aspects  at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  so 
antithetical — one  being  of  thraldom  and  the  otRerT^f 


freedpin,^  Jn  the  same  form,  sound,  colour,  and  taste 
two  contrary  notes  are  heard,  one  of  necessity  and 
the  other  of  joy.  Outwardly  nature  is  busy  and 
restless,  inwardly  she  is  all  silence  and  peace.  She 
has  toil  on  one  side  and  leisure  on  the  other.  You 
see  her  bondage  only  when  you  see  her  from  with- 
out, but  within  her  heart  is  a  limitless  beauty. 

Our  seer  says,  "From  joy  are  born  all  creatures,  \ 
by  joy  they  are  sustained,  towards  joy  they  progress,    \ 
and  into  joy  they  enter." 

Not  that  he  ignores  law,  or  that  his  contempla- 
tion of  this  infinite  joy  is  born  of  the  intoxication 
produced  by  an   indulgence   in   abstract  thought. 


I04 


SADHANA 


He  fully  recognises  the  inexorable  laws  of  nature, 
and  says,  "Fire  burns  for  fear  of  him  (i.  e.  by  his 
law);  the  sun  shines  by  fear  of  him;  and  for  fear 
of  him  the  wind,  the  clouds,  and  death  perform  theif 
offices."  It  is  a  reign  of  iron  rule,  ready  to  punish 
the  least  transgression.  Yet  the  poet  chants  the 
glad  song,  "From  joy  are  born  all  creatures,  by  joy 
they  are  sustained,  towards  joy  they  progress,  and 
into  joy  they  enter." 

The  immortal  being  manifests  himself  in  joy-form} 
His  manifestation  in  creation  is  out  of  his  fullness  of 
joy.  It  is  the  nature  of  this  abounding  joy  to  realise 
itself  in  form  which  is  law.  The  joy,  which  is  with- 
out form,  must  create,  must  translate  itself  into 
forms.  The  joy  of  the  singer  is  expressed  in  the 
form  of  a  song,  that  of  the  poet  in  the  form  of  a 
poem.  Man  in  his  role  of  a  creator  is  ever  creating, 
forms,  and  they  come  out  of  his  abounding  joy. 

This  joy,  whose  other  name  is  love,  must  by  its 
very  nature  have  duality  for  its  realisation.  When 
the  singer  has  his  inspiration  he  makes  himself 
into  two;  he  has  within  him  his  other  self  as  the 
hearer,  and  the  outside  audience  is  merely  an  ex- 
tension of  this  other  self  of  his.  The  lover  seeks 
his  own  other  self  in  his  beloved.  It  is  the  joy  that 
creates  this  separation,  in  order  to  realise  through 
obstacles  the  union. 

The  amritam,  the  immortal  bliss,  has  made  him- 

*  AnandarQpamamrltam  yad  vibhati. 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


loS 


/ 


self  into  two.  Our  soul  is  the  loved  one,  it  is  his 
other  self.  We  are  separate;  but  if  this  separation 
were  absolute,  then  there  would  have  been  absolute 
misery  and  unmitigated  evil  in  this  world.  Then 
from  untruth  we  never  could  reach  truth,  and  from 
sin  we  never  could  hope  to  attain  purity  of  heart; 
then  all  opposites  would  ever  remain  opposites,  and 
we  could  never  find  a  medium  through  which  our 
diff'erences  could  ever  tend  to  meet.  Then  we  could 
have  no  language,  no  understanding,  no  blending  of 
hearts,  no  co-operation  in  life.  But  on  the  contrary, 
we  find  that  the  separateness  of  objects  is  in  a  fluid 
state.  Their  individualities  are  ever  changing,  they 
are  meeting  and  merging  into  each  other,  till  science 
itself  is  turning  into  metaphysics,  matter  losing  its 
boundaries,  and  the  definition  of  life  becoming  more 
and  more  indefinite. 

Y.cSj  our  individual  soul  has  been  separated  from 
the,  siipreme^sQul^.biit  this  ^l^^  not  be^xLJiam  aliena- 
tjon  but  from  ^^?  fullnfifiii  of  Invri  ^  is  for  that 
reason  that  untruths,  sufferings,  and  evils  are  not  at 
a  standstill;  the  human  soul  can  defy  them,  can 
overcome  them,  nay,  can  altogether  transform  them 
into  new  power  and  beauty. 

The  singer  is  translating  his  song  into  singing, 
his  joy  into  forms,  and  the  hearer  has  to  translate 
back  the  singing  into  the  original  joy;  then  the 
communion  between  the  singer  and  the  hearer  is 
complete.     The  infinite  joy  is  manifesting  itself  in 


io6 


SADHANA 


manifold  forms,  taking  upon  itself  the  bondage  oi 
law,  and  we  fulfil  our  destiny  when  we  go  back  from 
forms  to  joy,  from  law  to  the  love,  when  we  untie 
the  knot  of  the  finite  and  hark  back  to  the  infinite. 

The  human  soul  is  on  its  journey  from  the  law 
to  loV^rom  discipline  to  liberation,  from  the 
mofarpIaneTo~^"the  spiritual.  Buddha  preached  the 
discipTirre"'~Of  self-restraint  and  moral  life;  it  is  a 
complete  acceptance  of  law.  But  this  bondage  of 
law  cannot  be  an  end  by  itself;  by  mastering  it 
thoroughly  we  acquire  the  means  of  getting  beyond 
It.  It  is  going  back  to  Brahma,  to  the  infinite  love, 
which  is  manifesting  itself  through  the  finite  forms 
of  law.  Buddha  names  it  Brahma-vihdra,  the  joy  of 
living  in  Brahma.  He  who  wants  to  reach  this 
stage,  according  to  Buddha,  "shall  deceive  none, 
entertain  no  hatred  for  anybody,  and  never  wish  to 
injure  through  anger.  He  shall  have  measureless 
love  for  all  creatures,  even  as  a  mother  has  for  her 
only  child,  whom  she  protects  with  her  own  life. 
Up  above,  below,  and  all  around  him  he  shall  extend 
his  love,  which  is  without  bounds  and  obstacles,  and 
which  is  free  from  all  cruelty  and  antagonism. 
While  standing,  sitting,  walking,  lying  down,  till  he 
fall  asleep,  he  shall  keep  his  mind  active  in  this 
exercise  of  universal  goodwill." 

Want  of  love  is  a  degree  of  callousness;  for  love 
is  the  perfection  of  consciousness.  We  do  not  love 
because  we  do  not  compreHend,  or  rather  we  do  not 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


107 


^ 


comprehend  because  we  do  not  love.  For  love  is 
the  ultimate  meaning  of  everything  around  usT^t 
is  not  a  mere  sentiment;  it  is  truth;  it  is  the  joy 
that  is  at  the  root  of  all  creation.  It  is  the  white 
light  of  pure  consciousness  that  emanates  from 
Brahma.  So,  to  be  one  with  this  sarvdnubhuh, 
this  all-feeling  being  who  is  in  the  external  sky,  as 
well  as  in  our  inner  soul,  we  must  attain  to  that 
summit  of  consciousness,  which  is  love:  Who  could 
have  breathed  or  moved  if  the  sky  were  not  filled  with 
joy,  with  love  ?  ^  It  is  through  the  heightening  of 
our  consciousness  Into  love,  and  extending  it  all  over 
the  world,  that  we  can  attain  Brahma-vihara,  com- 
munion with  this  infinite  joy. 

Love  spontaneously  gives  itself  in  endless  gifts. 
But  these  gifts  lose  their  fullest  significance  if  through 
them  we  do  not  reach  that  love,  which  is  the  giver. 
To  do  that,  we  must  have  love  in  our  own  heart. 
He  who  has  no  love  in  him  values  the  gifts  of  his 
lover  only  according  to  their  usefulness.  But  utility 
is  temporary  and  partial.  It  can  never  occupy  our 
whole  being;  what  is  useful  only  touches  us  at  the 
point  where  we  have  some  want.  When  the  want 
is  satisfied,  utility  becomes  a  burden  if  it  still  persists. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  mere  token  is  of  permanent 
worth  to  us  when  we  have  love  in  our  heart.  For  it 
is  not  for  any  special  use.  It  is  an  end  in  itself;  it  is 
for  our  whole  being  and  therefore  can  never  tire  us. 

1  Ko  hyevanyat  kah  pranyat  yadesha  akata  anando  na  syat. 


J 


\ 


io8 


SADHANA 


The  question  is,  In  what  manner  do  we  accept 
this  world,  which  is  a  perfect  gift  of  joy?  Have 
we  been  able  to  receive  it  in  our  heart  where  we 
keep  enshrined  things  that  are  of  deathless  value  to 
us?  We  are  frantically  busy  making  use  of  the 
forces  of  the  universe  to  gain  more  and  more  power; 
we  feed  and  we  clothe  ourselves  from  its  stores,  we 
scramble  for  its  riches,  and  it  becomes  for  us  a  field 
of  fierce  competition.  But  were  we  born  for  this,  to 
extend  our  proprietary  rights  over  this  world  and 
make  of  it  a  marketable  commodity?  When  our 
whole  mind  is  bent  only  upon  making  use  of  this  world 
it  loses  for  us  its  true  value.  We  make  it  cheap  by 
our  sordid  desires;  and  thus  to  the  end  of  our  days 
we  only  try  to  feed  upon  it  and  miss  its  truth,  just 
like  the  greedy  child  who  tears  leaves  from  a  precious 
book  and  tries  to  swallow  them. 

In  the  lands  where  cannibalism  is  prevalent  man 
looks  upon  man  as  his  food.  In  such  a  country 
civilisation  can  never  thrive,  for  there  man  loses 
his  higher  value  and  is  made  common  indeed.  But 
there  are  other  kinds  of  cannibalism,  perhaps  not 
so  gross,  but  not  less  heinous,  for  which  one  need 
not  travel  far.  In  countries  higher  in  the  scale  of 
civilisation  we  find  sometimes  man  looked  upon  as  a 
mere  body,  and  he  is  bought  and  sold  in  the  market 
by  the  price  of  his  flesh  only.  And  sometimes  he 
gets  his  sole  value  from  being  useful;  he  is  made 
into  a  machine,  and  is  traded  upon  by  the  man  of 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


109 


money  to  acquire  for  him  more  money.  Thus 
our  lust,  our  greed,  our  love  of  comfort  result  in 
cheapening  man  to  his  lowest  value.  It  is  self- 
deception  on  a  large  scale.  Our  desires  blind  us  to 
the  truth  that  there  is  in  man,  and  this  is  the  greatest 
wrong  done  by  ourselves  to  our  own  soul.  It  deadens 
our  consciousness,  and  is  but  a  gradual  method  of 
spiritual  suicide.  It  produces  ugly  sores  in  the 
body  of  civilisation,  gives  rise  to  its  hovels  a 
brothels,  its  vindictive  penal  codes,  its  cruel  prison 
systems,  its  organised  method  of  exploiting  foreign 
races  to  the  extent  of  permanently  injuring  them 
by  depriving  them  of  the  discipline  of  self-government 
and  means  01  seli-aeience. 

Of  course  man  is  useful  to  man,  because  his  body 
is  a  marvellous  machine  and  his  mind  an  organ  of 
wonderful  efficiency.  But  he  is  a  spirit  as  well,  and 
this  spirit  is  truly  known  only  by  love.  When  we 
define  a  man  by  the  market  value  of  the  service  we 
can  expect  of  him,  we  know  him  imperfectly.  With 
this  limited  knowledge  of  him  it  becomes  easy  for 
us  to  be  unjust  to  him  and  to  entertain  feelings  of 
triumphant  self-congratulation  when,  on  account  of 
some  cruel  advantage  on  our  side,  we  can  get  out  of 
him  much  more  than  we  have  paid  for.  But  when 
we  know  him  as  a  spirit  we  know  him  as  our  own. 
We  at  once  feel  that  cruelty  to  him  is  cruelty  to 
ourselves,  to  make  him  small  is  stealing  from  our 
own  humanity,  and  in  seeking  to  make  use  of  him 


/ 


no 


SADHANA 


c 


solely  for  personal  profit  we  merely  gain  in  money 
or  comfort  what  we  pay  for  in  truth. 

One  day  I  was  out  in  a  boat  on  the  Ganges.  It 
was  a  beautiful  evening  in  autumn.  The  sun  had  just 
set;  the  silence  of  the  sky  was  full  to  the  brim  with 
ineffable  peace  and  beauty.  The  vast  expanse  of 
water  was  without  a  ripple,  mirroring  all  the  chang- 
ing shades  of  the  sunset  glow.  Miles  and  miles  of  a 
desolate  sandbank  lay  like  a  huge  amphibious  reptile 
of  some  antediluvian  age,  with  its  scales  glistening  in 
shining  colours.  As  our  boat  was  silently  gliding 
by  the  precipitous  river-bank,  riddled  with  the  nest- 
holes  of  a  colony  of  birds,  suddenly  a  big  fish  leapt 
up  to  the  surface  of  the  water  and  then  disappeared, 
displaying  on  its  vanishing  figure  all  the  colours  of 
the  evening  sky.  It  drew  aside  for  a  moment  the 
many-coloured  screen  behind  which  there  was  a 
silent  world  full  of  the  joy  of  life.  It  came  up  from 
the  depths  of  its  mysterious  dwelling  with  a  beauti- 
ful dancing  motion  and  added  its  own  music  to  the 
silent  symphony  of  the  dying  day.  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  a  friendly  greeting  from  an  alien  world  in  its 
own  language,  and  it  touched  my  heart  with  a  flash 
of  gladness.  Then  suddenly  the  man  at  the  helm 
exclaimed  with  a  distinct  note  of  regret,  "Ah,  what 
a  big  fish!"  It  at  once  brought  before  his  vision 
the  picture  of  the  fish  caught  and  made  ready  for 
his  supper.  He  could  only  look  at  the  fish  through 
his  desire,  and  thus  missed  the  whole  truth  of  its 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


III 


existence.    But  man  is  not  entirely  an  animal.    He 
aspires  to  a  spiritual  vision,  which  is  the  vision  of 
the  whole  truth.    This  gives  him  the  highest  delight, 
because  it  reveals  to  him  the  deepest  harmony  that 
exists  between  him  and  his  surroundings.    It  is  our 
desires  that  limit  the  scope  of  our  self-realisation, 
hinder  our  extension  of  consciousness,  and  give  rise 
to  sin,  which  is  the  innermost  barrier  that  keeps  us 
apart  from  our  God,  setting  up  disunion  and  the 
arrogance  of  exclusiveness.    For  slu-h  not  one  mere 
action,  but  it  is  an  attitude  of  life  which  takes  for 
granted  that  our  goal  is  finite,  that  our  self  is  the  ulti-  , 
mate  truth,  and  that  we  are  not  all  essentially  one  but ' 
exist  each  for  his  own  separate  individual  existence. 
I       So  I  repeat  we  never  can  have  a  true  view  of  man  1 
/  unless  we  have  a  love  for  him.    Civilisation  must  be 
judged  and  prized,  not  by  the  amount  of  power  it 
has  developed,  but  by  how  much  it  has  evolved  and 
given  expression  to,  by  its  laws  and  institutions,  the 
love  of  humanity.    The  first  question  and  the  last 
which  it  has  to  answer  is.  Whether  and  how  far  it 
recognises  man  more  as  a  spirit  than  as  a  machine.? 
Whenever  some  ancient  civilisation  fell  into  decay 
and  died,  it  was  owing  to  causes  which  produced 
callousness  of  heart  and  led  to  the  cheapening  of 
man's  worth;  when  either  the  state  or  some  powerful 
group  of  men  began  to  look  upon  the  people  as  a 
mere  instrument  of  their  power;  when,  by  compelling 
weaker  races  to  slavery  and  trying  to  keep  them 


i\\ 


112 


sadhanA 


down  by  every  means,  man  struck  at  the  foundation 
of  his  greatness,  his  own  love  of  freedom  and  fair- 
play.  Civilisation  can  never  sustain  itself  upon 
cannibalism  of  any  form.  For  that  by  which  alone 
man  is  true  can  only  be  nourished  by  love   and 

justice. 

As  with  man,  so  with  this  universe.  When  we 
look  at  the  world  through  the  veil  of  our  desires 
we  make  it  small  and  narrow,  and  fail  to  perceive 
its  full  truth.  Of  course  it  is  obvious  that  the  world 
*  serves  us  and  fulfils  our  needs,  but  our  relation  to 
it  does  not  end  there.  We  are  bound  to  it  with  a 
deeper  and  truer  bond  than  that  of  necessity.  Our 
soul  is  drawn  to  it;  our  love  of  life  is  really  our 
wish  to  continue  our  relation  with  this  great  world. 
This  relation  is  one  of  love.  We  are  glad  that  we 
are  in  it;  we  are  attached  to  it  with  numberless 
threads,  which  extend  from  this  earth  to  the  stars. 
Man  foolishly  tries  to  prove  his  superiority  by  im- 
agining his  radical  separateness  from  what  he  calls 
his  physical  world,  which,  in  his  blind  fanaticism,  he 
sometimes  goes  to  the  extent  of  ignoring  altogether, 
holding  it  as  his  direst  enemy.  Yet  the  more  his 
knowledge  progresses,  the  more  it  becomes  difficult 
for  man  to  establish  this  separateness,  and  all  the 
imaginary  boundaries  he  had  set  up  around  himself 
vanish  one  after  another.  Every  time  we  lose  some 
of  our  badges  of  absolute  distinction  by  which  we 
conferred  upon  our  humanity  the  right  to  hold  itself 


REALISATION  IN  LOVE 


113 


apart  from  its  surroundings,  it  gives  us  a  shock  of 
humiliation.  But  we  have  to  submit  to  this.  If  we 
set  up  our  pride  on  the  path  of  our  self-realisation 
to  create  divisions  and  disunion,  then  it  must  sooner 
or  later  come  under  the  wheels  of  truth  and  be 
ground  to  dust.  No,  we  are  not  burdened  with 
some  monstrous  superiority,  unmeaning  in  its  singu- 
lar abruptness.  It  would  be  utterly  degrading  for  us 
to  live  in  a  world  immeasurably  less  than  ourselves 
in  the  quality  of  soul,  just  as  it  would  be  repulsive 
and  degrading  to  be  surrounded  and  served  by  a 
host  of  slaves,  day  and  night,  from  birth  to  the 
moment  of  death.  On  the  contrary,  this  world  is 
our  compeer,  nay,  we  are  one  with  it. 

Through  our  progress  in  science  the  wholeness 
of  the  world  and  our  oneness  with  it  is  becoming 
clearer  to  our  mind.  When  this  perception  of  the 
perfection  of  unity  is  not  merely  intellectual,  when 
it  opens  out  our  whole  being  into  a  luminous  con- 
sciousness of  the  all,  then  it  becomes  a  radiant  joy, 
an  overspreading  love.  Our  spirit  finds  its  larger 
self  in  the  whole  world,  and  is  filled  with  an  absolute 
certainty  that  it  is  immortal.  It  dies  a  hundred 
times  in  its  enclosures  of  self;  for  separateness  Is 
doomed  to  die.  It  cannot  be  made  eternal.  But  it 
never  can  die  where  it  is  one  with  the  all,  for  there 
is  its  truth,  its  joy.  Whon  a  man  feels  th^  rViy^|^|nig  . 
throb  of  the  gr>n1Jif<^  nf  tVip  lYl''")fii.^^fif^,.P  ^^^  own 


soul,  theh'is'T^free.    Then  he  enters  into  the  secret 


114 


SADHANA 


REALISATION   IN  LOVE 


"S 


courting  that  goes  on  between  this  beautiful  world- 
bride,  veiled  with  the  veil  of  the  many-coloured 
finiteness,  and  the  paramatmam,  the  bridegroom,  in 
his  spotless  white.  Then  he  knows  that  he  is  the 
partaker  of  this  gorgeous  love  festival,  and  he  is  the 
honoured  guest^al^the  feast  of  inuncurtalitv.  Then  he 
understands  the  meaning  of  the  seer-poet  who  sings, 
"From  love  the  world  is  born,  by  love  it  is  sustained, 
towards  love  it  moves,  and  into  love  it  enters." 

In  love  all  the  contradictions  of  existence  merge 
themselves  and  are  lost.     Only  in  love  are  unity 
I  and  duality  not  at  variance.    Love  must  be  one  a.nd 

two  at  the  same  time. 
fl  Only  love  is  motion  and  rest  in  one.  Our  heart 
ever  cEanges  its  place  till  it  finds  love,  and  then  it 
has  its  rest.  But  this  rest  itself  is  an  intense  form 
of  activity  where  utter  quiescence  and  unceasing 
energy  meet  at  the  same  point  in  love. 

In  love,  loss  and  gain  are  harmonised.  In  its 
balance-sheet,  credit  and  debit  accounts  are  in  the 
same  column,  and  gifts  are  added  to  gains.  In  this 
wonderful  festival  of  creation,  this  great  ceremony  of 
self-sacrifice  of  God,  the  lover  constantly  gives  him- 
self up  to  gain  himself  in  love.  Indeed,  love  is  what 
brings  together  and  inseparably  connects  both  the 
act  of  abandoning  and  that  of  receiving. 

In  love,  at  one  of  its  poles  you  find  the  personal, 
and  at  the  other  the  impersonal.  At  one  you  have 
the  positive  assertion — Here  I  am;  at  the  other  the 


J 


equally  strong  denial — I  am  not.  Without  this  ego 
what  is  love?  And  again,  with  only  this  ego  how 
can  love  be  possible.^ 

Bondage  and  liberation  are  not  antagonistic  in 
love.  For  love  is  most  free  and  at  the  same  time 
most  bound.  If  God  were  absolutely  free  there 
would  be  no  creation.  The  infinite  being  has  assumed 
unto  himself  the  mystery  of  finitude.  And  in  him 
who  IS  love  the  finite  and  the  infinite  are  made  one. 

Similarly,  when  we  talk  about  the  relative  values 
of  freedom  and  non-freedom,  it  becomes  a  mere  play 

of  words.    Jt  ^g  T^ot  tViat  1X7^  ripgi'rf>  fr^^rlnm   alonf^^  Wf> 


want  thrajdfim  ?°  -nmll,— Jf  is  the  high  function  of 
love  to  welcome  alUimitations  and  to  transcendJJieni. 
For  nothing  is  more  independent  than  love,  and 
where  else,  again,  shall  we  find  so  much  of  depend- 
ence.? In  love,  thraldom  is  as  glorious  as  freedom. 
The  Vaishnava  religion  has  boldly  declared  that 
God  has  bound  himself  to  man,  and  in  that  consists 
the  greatest  glory  of  human  existence.  In  the  spell 
of  the  wonderful  rhythm  of  the  finite  he  fetters  him- 
self at  every  step,  and  thus  gives  his  love  out  in 
music  in  his  most  perfect  lyrics  of  beauty.  Beauty 
is  his  wooing  of  our  heart;  it  can  have  no  other 
purpose.  It  tells  us  everywhere  that  the  display  of 
power  is  not  the  ultimate  meaning  of  creation; 
wherever  there  is  a  bit  of  colour,  a  note  of  song,  a 
grace  of  form,  there  comes  the  call  for  our  love. 
Hunger  compels  us  to  obey  its  behests,  but  hunger 


ii6 


SADHANA 


Is  not  the  last  word  for  a  man.    There  have  been 
men  who  have  deliberately  defied  its  commands  to 
show  that  the  human  soul  is  not  to  be  led  by  the 
pressure  of  wants  and  threat  of  pain.    In  fact,  to  live 
the  life  of  man  we  have  to  resist  its  demands  every 
day,  the  least  of  us  as  well  as  the  greatest.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  beauty  in  the  world 
which  never  insults  our  freedom,  never  raises  even 
its  little  finger  to  make  us  acknowledge  its  sover- 
eignty.    We  can  absolutely  ignore  it  and  suffer  no 
penalty  in  consequence.     It  is  a  call  to  us,  but  not 
a  command.     It  seeks  for  love  in  us,  and  love  can 
never  be  had  by  compulsion.     Compulsion  is  not 
djJie-ftiml  appeal  to  man,  hut  joy^is^    And  joy 
"is  everywhere;  it  is  in  the  earth's  green  covering  of 
,;grass;  in  the  blue  serenity  of  the  sky;  in  the  reck- 
less exuberance  of  spring;  in  the  severe  abstinence 
of  grey  winter;  in  the  living  flesh  that  animates  our 
bodily  frame;  in  the  perfect  poise  of  the  human 
figure,  noble  and  upright;  in  living;  in  the  exercise 
of  all  our  powers;  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge; 
in  fighting  evils;  in  dying  for  gains  we  never  can 
share.     Joy  is  there  everywhere;  it  is  superfluous, 
unnecessary;  nay,  it  very  often  contradicts  the  most 
peremptory  behests  of  necessity.     It  exists  to  show 
that  the  bonds  of  law  can  only  be  explained  by  love; 
they  are  like  body  and  soul.    Joj^Jsjhejealisation  of 
the  truth  of  oneness,  the  oneness  of  our  soul  with  the 
world  and  of  the  world-soul  with  the  supreme  lover. 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


117 


/ 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


It  is  only  those  who  have  known  that  joy  expresses 
itself  through  law  who  have  learnt  to  transcend  the 
law.  Not  that  the  bonds  of  law  have  ceased  to 
exist  for  them— but  that  the  bonds  have  become  to 
them  as  the  form  of  freedom  incarnate.  The  freed 
soul  delights  in  accepting  bonds,  and  does  not  seek 
to  evade  any  of  them,  for  in  each  does  it  feel  the 
manifestation  of  an  infinite  energy  whose  joy  is  in 
creation. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  where  there  are  no  bonds, 
where  there  is  the  madness  of  licence,  the  soul  ceases 
to  be  free.  There  is  its  hurt;  there  is  its  separation 
from  the  infinite,  its  agony  of  sin.  Whenever  at 
the  call  of  temptation  the  soul  falls  away  from  the 
bondage  of  law,  then,  like  a  child  deprived  of  the 
support  of  its  mother's  arms,  it  cries  out.  Smite  me 
not!^  "Bind  me,"  it  prays,  "oh,  bind  me  in  the 
bonds  of  thy  law;  bind  me  within  and  without; 
hold  me  tight;  let  me  in  the  clasp  of  thy  law  be 
bound  up  together  with  thy  joy;  protect  me  by  thy 
firm  hold  from  the  deadly  laxity  of  sin." 

*  Ma  ma  himsih. 
119 


I20 


SADHANA 


VI 


As  some,  under  the  idea  that  law  is  the  opposite 
of  J07,  mistake  intoxication  for  joy,  so  there  are 
many  in  our  country  who  imagine  action  to  be 
opposed  to  freedom.  They  think  that  activity  being 
in  the  material  plane  is  a  restriction  of  the  free  spirit 
of  the  soul.  But  we  must  remember  that  as  joy 
expresses  itself  in  law,  so  the  soul  finds  its  freedom  in 
action.  It  is  because  joy  cannot  find  expression 
in  itself  alone  that  it  desires  the  law  which  is  outside. 
Likewise  it  is  because  the  soul  cannot  find  freedom 
within  itself  that  it  wants  external  action.  The 
soul  of  man  is  ever  freeing  itself  from  its  own  folds 
by  its  activity;  had  it  been  otherwise  it  could  not  have 
done  any  voluntary  work. 

The  more  man  acts  and  makes  actual  what  was 
latent  in  him,  the  nearer  does  he  bring  the  distant 
Yet-to-be.  In  that  actualisation  man  is  ever  making 
himself  more  and  yet  more  distinct,  and  seeing  him- 
self clearly  under  newer  and  newer  aspects  in  the 
midst  of  his  varied  activities,  in  the  state,  in  society. 
This  vision  makes  for  freedom. 

Freedom  is  not  in  darkness,  nor  in  vagueness. 
There  is  no  bondage  so  fearful  as  that  of  obscurity. 
it  is  to  escape  from  this  obscurity  that  the  seed 
struggles  to  sprout,  the  bud  to  blossom.  It  is  to 
rid  itself  of  this  envelope  of  vagueness  that  the  ideas 
in  our  mind  are  constantly  seeking  opportunities  to 
take  on  outward  form.  In  the  same  way  our  soul,  in 
order  to  release  itself  from  the  niist  of  indistinctness 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


121 


and  come  out  into  the  open,  is  continually  creating 
for  itself  fresh  fields  of  action,  and  is  busy  contriving 
new  forms  of  activity,  even  such  as  are  not  needful 
for  the  purposes  of  its  earthly  life.  And  why? 
Because  it  wants  freedom.  It  wants  to  see  itself, 
to  realise  itself. 

When  man  cuts  down  the  pestilential  jungle  and 
makes  unto  himself  a  garden,  the  beauty  that  he  thus 
sets  free  from  within  its  enclosure  of  ugliness  is  the 
beauty  of  his  own  soul:  without  giving  it  this  free- 
dom outside,  he  cannot  make  it  free  within.  When 
he  implants  law  and  order  in  the  midst  of  the  way- 
wardness of  society,  the  good  which  he  sets  free 
from  the  obstruction  of  the  bad  is  the  goodness  of 
his  own  soul:  without  being  thus  made  free  outside 
it  cannot  find  freedom  within.  Thus  is  man  con- 
tinually engaged  in  setting  free  in  action  his  powers, 
his  beauty,  his  goodness,  his  very  soul.  And  the 
more  he  succeeds  in  so  doing,  the  greater  does  he  see 
himself  to  be,  the  broader  becomes  the  field  of  his 
knowledge  of  self. 

The  Upanishad  says :  In  the  midst  of  activity  alone 
wilt  thou  desire  to  live  a  hundred  years}  It  is  the 
saying  of  those  who  had  amply  tasted  of  the  joy  of 
the  soul.  Those  who  have  fully  realised  the  soul  have 
never  talked  in  mournful  accents  of  the  sorrowfulness 
of  life  or  of  the  bondage  of  action.  They  are  not  like 
the  weakling  flower  whose  stem-hold  is  so  light  that 

*  Kurvanncveha  karmani  jijivishet  (atam  samah. 


f 


1 


/ 


122 


sAdhana 


VI 


It  drops  away  before  attaining  fruition.  They  hold 
on  to  life  with  all  their  might  and  say,  "never  will 
we  let  go  till  the  fruit  is  ripe."  They  desire  in  their 
joy  to  express  themselves  strenuously  in  their  life 
and  in  their  work.  Pain  and  sorrow  dismay  them 
not,  they  are  not  bowed  down  to  the  dust  by  the 
weight  of  their  own  heart.  With  the  erect  head 
of  the  victorious  hero  they  march  through  life  seeing 
themselves  and  showing  themselves  in  increasing 
resplendence  of  soul  through  both  joys  and  sorrows. 
The  joy  of  their  life  keeps  step  with  the  joy  of  that 
energy  which  is  playing  at  building  and  breaking 
throughout  the  universe.  The  joy  of  the  sunlight, 
the  joy  of  the  free  air,  mingling  with  the  joy  of  their 
lives,  makes  one  sweet  harmony  reign  within  and 
without.  It  is  they  who  say.  In  the  midst  of  activity 
alone  wilt  thou  desire  to  live  a  hundred  years. 

This  joy  of  life,  this  joy  of  work,  in  man  is  ab- 
solutely true.  It  is  no  use  saying  that  it  is  a  delusion 
of  ours;  that  unless  we  cast  it  away  we  cannot  enter 
upon  the  path  of  self-realisation.  It  will  never  do  the 
least  good  to  attempt  the  realisation  of  the  infinite 
apart  from  the  world  of  action. 

It  is  not  the  truth  that  man  is  active  on  compulsion. 
If  there  is  compulsion  on  one  side,  on  the  other 
there  is  pleasure;  on  the  one  hand  action  is  spurred 
on  by  want,  on  the  other  it  hies  to  its  natural  ful- 
filment. That  is  why,  as  man's  civilisation  advances, 
he  increases  his  obligations  and  the  work  that  he 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


123 


willingly    creates    for   himself.      One    should    have 
thought  that  nature  had  given  him  quite  enough 
to  do  to  keep  him  busy,  in  fact  that  it  was  work- 
ing him  to  death  with  the  lash  of  hunger  and  thirst, — 
but  no.    Man  does  not  think  that  sufficient;  he  cannot 
rest  content  with  only  doing  the  work  that  nature 
prescribes  for  him  in  common  with  the  birds  and 
beasts.    He  needs  must  surpass  all,  even  in  activity. 
No  creature  has  to  work  so  hard  as  man;  he  has 
been  impelled  to  contrive  for  himself  a  vast  field 
of  action  in  society;  and  in  this  field  he  is  for  ever 
building  up  and  pulling  down,  making  and  unmaking 
laws,  piling  up  heaps  of  material,  and  incessantly 
thinking,  seeking  and  suffering.    In  this  field  he  has 
fought  his  mightiest  battles,  gained  continual  new 
life,   made  death   glorious,   and,  far   from   evading 
troubles,  has  willingly  and  continually  taken  up  the 
burden  of  fresh  trouble.    He  has  discovered  the  truth 
that  he  is  not  complete  in  the  cage  of  his  immediate 
surroundings,  that  he  is  greater  than  his  present, 
and  that  while  to  stand  still  in  one  place  may  be 
comforting,  the  arrest  of  life  destroys  his  true  func- 
tion and  the  real  purpose  of  his  existence. 

This  mahatl  vinashtih — this  great  destruction  he 
cannot  bear,  and  accordingly  he  toils  and  suffers 
in  order  that  he  may  gain  in  stature  by  transcending 
his  present,  in  order  to  become  that  which  he  yet 
is  not.  In  this  travail  is  man's  glory,  and  it  is 
because  he  knows  it,  that  he  has  not  sought  to 


124 


SADHANA 


VI 


circumscribe  his  field  of  action,  but  is  constantly 
occupied  in  extending  the  bounds.  Sometimes  he 
wanders  so  far  that  his  work  tends  to  lose  its  mean- 
ing, and  his  rushings  to  and  fro  create  fearful  eddies 
round  different  centres — eddies  of  self-interest,  of 
pride  of  power.  Still,  so  long  as  the  strength  of  the 
current  is  not  lost,  there  is  no  fear;  the  obstructions 
and  the  dead  accumulations  of  his  activity  are 
dissipated  and  carried  away;  the  impetus  corrects 
Its  own  mistakes.  Only  when  the  soul  sleeps  in  stag- 
nation do  its  enemies  gain  overmastering  strength, 
and  these  obstructions  become  too  clogging  to  be 
fought  through.  Hence  have  we  been  warned  by 
our  teachers  that  to  work  we  must  live,  to  live  we 
must  lyork-  that  life  and~  activity  are  inseparably 
connected.      _ 

It  is  the  very  characteristic  of  life  that  it  is  not 
complete  within  itself;  it  must  come  out.  Its  truth 
is  in  the  commerce  of  the  inside  and  the  outside. 
In  order  to  live,  the  body  must  maintain  its  various 
relations  with  the  outside  light  and  air — not  only  to 
gain  life-force,  but  also  to  manifest  it.  Consider 
how  fully  employed  the  body  is  with  its  own  inside 
activities;  its  heart-beat  must  not  stop  for  a  second, 
Its  stomach,  its  brain,  must  be  ceaselessly  working. 
Yet  this  is  not  enough;  the  body  is  outwardly  rest- 
less all  the  while.  Its  life  leads  it  to  an  endless  dance 
of  work  and  play  outside;  it  cannot  be  satisfied 
with  the  circulations  of  its  internal  economy^  and  only 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


I2S 


finds  the  fulfilment  of  joy  in  its  outward  excur- 
sions. 

The  same  with  t'he  soul.  It  cannot  live  on  its 
own  internal  feelings  and  imaginings.  It  is  ever 
in  need  of  external  objects;  not  only  to  feed  its 
inner  consciousness  but  to  apply  itself  in  action, 
not  only  to  receive  but  also  to  give. 

The  real  truth  is,  we  cannot  live  if  we  divide 
him  who  is  truth  itself  into  two  parts.  We  must 
abide  in  him  within  as  well  as  without.  In  which- 
ever aspect  we  deny  him  we  deceive  ourselves  and 
incur  a  loss.  Brahma  has  not  left  me,  let  me  not  leave 
Brahma}  If  we  say  that  we  would  realise  him  in 
introspection  alone  and  leave  him  out  of  our  ex- 
ternal activity,  that  we  would  enjoy  him  by  the 
love  in  our  heart,  but  not  worship  him  by  outward 
ministrations;  or  if  we  say  the  opposite,  and  over- 
weight ourselves  on  one  side  in  the  journey  of  our 
life's  quest,  we  shall  alike  totter  to  our  downfall. 

In  the  great  western  continent  we  see  that  the 
soul  of  man  is  mainly  concerned  with  extending 
itself  outwards;  the  open  field  of  the  exercise  of 
power  is  its  field.  Its  partiality  is  entirely  for  the 
world  of  extension,  and  it  would  leave  aside — nay, 
hardly  believe  in — that  field  of  inner  consciousness 
which  is  the  field  of  fulfilment.  It  has  gone  so  far 
in  this  that  the  perfection  of  fulfilment  seems  to 
exist  for  it  nowhere.     Its  science  has  always  talked 

1  Maham  brahma  nirakuryyain  ma  ma  brahma  nirakarot. 


126 


SADHANA 


VI 


of  the  never-ending  evolution  of  the  world.  Its 
metaphysic  has  now  begun  to  talk  of  the  evolution 
of  God  himself.  They  will  not  admit  that  he  is; 
they  would  have  it  that  he  also  is  becoming. 

They  fail  to  realise  that  while  the  infinite  is 
always  greater  than  any  assignable  limit,  it  is  also 
complete;  that  on  the  one  hand  Brahma  is  evolving, 
on  the  other  he  is  perfection;  that  in  the  one  as- 
pect he  is  essence,  in  the  other  manifestation — 
both  together  at  the  same  time,  as  is  the  song  and 
the  act  of  singing.  This  is  like  ignoring  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  singer  and  saying  that  only  the 
singing  is  in  progress,  that  there  is  no  song.  Doubt- 
less we  are  directly  aware  only  of  the  singing,  and 
never  at  any  one  time  of  the  song  as  a  whole;  tut 
do  we  not  all  the  time  know  that  the  complete 
song  is  in  the  soul  of  the  singer? 

It  is  because  of  this  insistence  on  the  doing  and 
the  becoming  that  we  perceive  in  the  west  the 
intoxication  of  power.  These  men  seem  to  have 
determined  to  despoil  and  grasp  everything  by 
force.  They  would  always  obstinately  be  doing 
and  never  be  done — they  would  not  allow  to  death 
its  natural  place  in  the  scheme  of  things — they 
know  not  the  beauty  of  completion. 

In  our  country  the  danger  comes  from  the  op- 
posite side.  Our  partiality  is  for  the  internal  world. 
We  would  cast  aside  with  contumely  the  field  of 
power  and  of  extension.    We  would  realise  Brahma 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


127 


in  meditation  only  in  his  aspect  of  completeness, 
we  have  determined  not  to  see  him  in  the  com- 
merce of  the  universe  in  his  aspect  of  evolution. 
That  is  why  in  our  seekers  we  so  often  find  the 
intoxication  of  the  spirit  and  its  consequent  degra- 
dation. Their  faith  would  acknowledge  no  bondage 
of  law,  their  imagination  soars  unrestricted,  their 
conduct  disdains  to  offer  any  explanation  to  reason. 
Their  intellect,  in  its  vain  attempts  to  see  Brahma 
inseparable  from  his  creation,  works  itself  stone-dry, 
and  their  heart,  seeking  to  confine  him  within  its 
own  outpourings,  swoons  in  a  drunken  ecstasy  of 
emotion.  They  have  not  even  kept  within  reach 
any  standard  whereby  they  can  measure  the  loss  of 
strength  and  character  which  manhood  sustains  by 
thus  ignoring  the  bonds  of  law  and  the  claims  of 
action  in  the  external  universe. 

But  true  spirituality,  as  taught  in  our  sacred  lore, 
is  calmly  balanced  in  strength,  in  the  correlation  of 
the  within  and  the  without.  The  truth  has  its 
law,  it  has  its  joy.  On  one  side  of  it  is  being  chanted 
the  Bhayddasydgnistapaiiy^  on  the  other  the  Jnan- 
dddhyeva  khalvimdni  hhutdni  jdyante.^  Freedpm  is 
impossible  of  attainment  without  submission  to  law,^ 
for  Brahma  is  in  one  aspect  bound  by  his  truth,  in 
th^j^ther  free  in  his  joy. 

As  for  ourselves,  it  is  omy  when  we  wholly  sub- 


*"For  fear  of  him  the  fire  doth  bum,"  etc. 
*"From  Joy  are  born  all  created  things,"  etc. 


128 


SADHANA 


m 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


129 


mit  to  the  bonds  of  truth  that  we  fully  gain  the 
J07  of  freedom.  And  how?  As  does  the  string 
that  IS  bound  to  the  harp.  When  the  harp  is  truly 
strung,  when  there  is  not  the  slightest  laxity  in  the 
strength  of  the  bond,  then  only  does  music  result; 
and  the  string  transcending  itself  in  its  melody  finds 
at  every  chord  its  true  freedom.  It  is  because  it  is 
bound  by  such  hard  and  fast  rules  on  the  one  side 
that  it  can  find  this  range  of  freedom  in  music  on 
the  other.  While  the  string  was  not  true,  it  was 
indeed  merely  bound;  but  a  loosening  of  its  bondage 
would  not  have  been  the  way  to  freedom,  which  it 
can  only  fully  achieve  by  being  bound  tighter  and 
tighter  till  it  has  attained  the  true  pitch. 

The  bass  and  treble  strings  of  our  duty  are  only 
bonds  so  long  as  we  cannot  maintain  them  stead- 
fastly attuned  according  to  the  law  of  truth;  and 
we  cannot  call  by  the  name  of  freedom  the  loosen- 
ing of  them  into  the  nothingness  of  inaction.  That 
is  why  I  would  say  that  the  true  striving  in  the 
quest  of  truth,  of  dharma^  consists  not  in  the  neg- 
lect of  action  but  in  the  effort  to  attune  it  closer 
and  closer  to  the  eternal  harmony.  The  text  of 
this  striving  should  be,  Whatever  works  thou  doestj 
consecrate  them  to  Brahma}  That  is  to  say,  the  soul 
is  to  dedicate  itself  to  Brahma  through  all  its  activi- 
ties. This  dedication  is  the  song  of  the  soul,  in  this  is 
its  freedom.    Joy  reigns  when  all  work  becomes  the 

^Yadyat  karma  prakurvita  tadbrahmani  samarpaycU 


path  to  the  union  with  Brahma;  when  the  soul 
ceases  to  return  constantly  to  its  own  desires;  when 
in  it  our  self-offering  grows  more  and  more  intense. 
Then  there  is  completion,  then  there  is  freedom, 
then,  in  this  world,  comes  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Who  is  there  that,  sitting  in  his  corner,  would 
deride  this  grand  self-expression  of  humanity  in 
action,  this  incessant  self-consecration?  Who  is 
there  that  thinks  the  union  of  God  and  man  is  to 
be  found  in  some  secluded  enjoyment  of  his  own 
imaginings,  away  from  the  sky-towering  temple  of 
the  greatness  of  humanity,  which  the  whole  of 
mankind,  in  sunshine  and  storm,  is  toiling  to  erect 
through  the  ages?  Who  is  there  that  thinks  this 
secluded  communion  is  the  highest  form  of  religion? 

O  thou  distraught  wanderer,  thou  Sannyasin, 
drunk  in  the  wine  of  self-intoxication,  dost  thou  not 
already  hear  the  progress  of  the  human  soul  along  the 
highway  traversing  the  wide  fields  of  Jiumanity — the 
thunder  of  its  progress  in  the  car  of  its  achieve- 
ments, which  is  destined  to  overpass  the  bounds 
that  prevent  its  expansion  into  the  universe?  The 
very  mountains  are  cleft  asunder  and  give  way  before 
the  march  of  its  banners  waving  triumphantly  in  the 
heavens;  as  the  mist  before  the  rising  sun,  the 
tangled  obscurities  of  material  things  vanish  at  its  ir- 
resistible approach.  Pain,  disease,  and  disorder  are 
at  every  step  receding  before  its  onset;  the  obstruc- 
tions of  ignorance  are  being  thrust  aside;  the  dark- 


I30 


SADHANA 


VI 


V^I 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


131 


ness   of  blindness   is   being   pierced   through;   and 
behold,  the  promised  land  of  wealth  and  health,  of 
poetry  and  art,  of  knowledge  and  righteousness  is 
gradually  being  revealed  to  view.     Do  you  in  your 
lethargy  desire  to  say  that  this  car  of  humanity, 
which  is  shaking  the  very  earth  with  the  triumph 
of  its  progress  along  the  mighty  vistas  of  history, 
has  no  charioteer  leading  it  on  to  its  fulfilment? 
Who  is  there  who  refuses  to  respond  to  his  call  to 
join  in  this  triumphal  progress?    Who  so  foolish  as 
to  run  away  from  the  gladsome  throng  and  seek  him 
in  the  listlessness  of  inaction?     Who  so  steeped  in 
untruth  as  to  dare  to  call  all  this  untrue — this  great 
world  of  men,  this  civilisation  of  expanding  human- 
ity, this  eternal  effort  of  man,  through  depths  of 
sorrow,  through  heights  of  gladness,  through  innu- 
merable impediments  within  and  without,  to  win  vic- 
tory for  his  powers?    He  who  can  think  of  this  im- 
mensity of  achievement  as  an  immense  fraud,  can  he 
truly  believe  in  God  who  is  the  truth  ?    He  who  thinks 
to  reach  God  by  running  away  from  the  world, 
when  and  where  does  he  expect  to  meet  him?    How 
far  can  he  fly— can  he  fly  and  fly,  till  he  flies  into 
nothingness    itself?     No,    the   coward   who   would 
fly   can   nowhere   find   him.     We   must   be   brave 
enough  to  be  able  to  say:  We  are  reaching  him  here 
in  this  very  spot,  now  at  this  very  moment.     We 
must  be  able  to  assure  ourselves  that  as  in  our  actions 
we  are  realising  ourselves,  so  in  ourselves  we  are 


/ 


realising  him  who  is  the  self  of  self.  We  must 
earn  the  right  to  say  so  unhesitatingly  by  clearing 
away  with  our  own  effort  all  obstruction,  all  dis- 
order, all  discords  from  our  path  of  activity;  we 
must  be  able  to  say,  **Ijucny  work  is  my  joy,  and  ia- 

that  joy^oes_the  joy  of  my  joy  abide.'^ ^^ 

Whom  does  the  Upanishad  call  'the  chief  among] 
the  knozvers  of  Brahma  ?  ^  He  is  defined  as  He  whose 
joy  is  in  Brahma^  whose  play  is  in  Brahma^  the  active 
one}  Joy  without  the  play  of  joy  is  no  joy  at  all — 
play  without  activity  is  no  play.     Activity  is  the 

play  of  joy.      He  whose   joy  is  jp    "RraVtma     \\r\\M  ci:xr\ 

\\f^  Ijvp  in  innrtifin?  Frr  must  he  not  by  his  activity 
provide  that  in  which  the  joy  of  Brahma  is  to  take 
form  and  manifest  itself?  That  is  why  he  who 
knows  Brahma,  who  has  his  joy  in  Brahma,  must  also 
have  all  his  activity  in  Brahma — his  eating  and 
drinking,  his  earning  of  livelihood  and  his  benefi- 
cence. Just  as  the  joy  of  the  poet  in  his  poem,  of 
the  artist  in  his  art,  of  the  brave  man  in  the  output 
of  his  courage,  of  the  wise  man  in  his  discernment 
of  truths,  ever  seeks  expression  in  their  several 
activities,  so  the  joy  of  the  knower  of  Brahma,  in 
the  whole  of  his  everyday  work,  little  and  big,  in 
truth,  in  beauty,  in  orderliness  and  in  beneficence, 
seeks  to  give  expression  to  the  infinite. 

Brahma  himself  gives  expression  to  his  joy  in 
just  the  same  way.    By  his  many-sided  activity^  which 

*  Brahma vidamvaristhah,  •Atmakrirha  atmaratih  kriyavan. 


J 


"V 


132 


SADHANA 


VI 


radiates  in  all  directio7is^  does  he  fulfil  the  inherent  want 
of  his  different  creatures}  That  inherent  want  is  he 
himself,  and  so  he  is  in  so  many  ways,  in  so  many 
forms,  giving  himself.  He  works,  for  without  work- 
ing how  could  he  give  himself.  His  joy  is  ever 
dedicating  itself  in  the  dedication  which  is  his 
creation. 

In  this  very  thing  does  our  own  true  meaning 
lie,  in  this  is  our  likeness  to  our  father.  We  must 
also  give  up  ourselves  in  many-sided  variously  aimed 
activity.  j|i  the  Vedas  he  is  called  i^i^- gio^-^/-Atf»- 
self^  the  nver  of  strength^  He  is  not  content  with 
giving  us  Rimself,  but  he  gives  us  strength  that  we 
may  likewise  give  ourselves.  That  is  why  the  seer 
of  the  Upanishad  prays  to  him  who  is  thus  fulfill- 
ing our  wants,  May  he  grant  us  the  beneficent  mindj^ 
may  he  fulfil  that  uttermost  want  of  ours  by  grant- 
ing us  the  beneficent  mind.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  not 
enough  he  should  alone  work  to  remove  our  want, 
but  he  should  give  us  the  desire  and  the  strength 
to  work  with  him  in  his  activity  and  in  the  exercise 
of  the  goodness.  Then,  indeed,  will  our  union  with 
him  alone  be  accomplished.  The  beneficent  mind 
is  that  which  shows  us  the  want  {swdrtha)  of  another 
self  to  be  the  inherent  want  (nihitdrtha)  of  our  own 
self;  that  which  shows  that  our  joy  consists  in  the 
varied  aiming  of  our  many-sided  powers  in  the  work 

*  Bahudha  faktl  ycgat  varnananekan  nihitartho  dadhati. 
*Atmada  balada.  *  Sa  no  buddhya  ^ubhaya  samyunaktu. 


VI 


REALISATION  IN  ACTION 


133 


of  humanity.  When  we  work  under  the  guidance 
of  this  beneficent  mind,  then  our  activity  is  regulated, 
but  does  not  become  mechanical;  it  is  action  not 
goaded  on  by  want,  but  stimulated  by  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  soul.  Such  activity  ceases  to  be  a  blind 
imitation  of  that  of  the  multitude,  a  cowardly  follow- 
ing of  the  dictates  of  fashion.  Therein  we  begin  to 
see  that  He  is  in  the  beginning  and  in  the  end  of 
the  universe}  and  likewise  see  that  of  our  own  work 
is  he  the  fount  and  the  inspiration,  and  at  the  end 
thereof  is  he,  and  therefore  that  all  our  activity  is 
pervaded  by  peace  and  good  and  joy. 

The  Upanishad  says:  Knowledge j  power^  and  action 
n.T£  (^f  fii\  fiYifuj^}  It,  IS  because  this  naturalness  has 
not  yet  been  born  in  us  that  we  tend  to  divide  joy 
from  work.  Our  day  of  work  is  not  our  day  of  joy 
— for  that  we  require  a  holiday;  for,  miserable  that 
we  are,  we  cannot  find  our  holiday  in  our  work. 
The  river  finds  its  holiday  in  its  onward  flow,  the 
^  fire  ia,its  outburst  of  flame,  the  scent  of  the  flower 
In  its  permeation  of  the  atmosphere;  but  in  our  every- 
day work  there  is  no  such  holiday  for  us.  It  is  be- 
^ cause  we  do  not  let  ourselves  go,  because  we  do 
not  give  ourselves  joyously  and  entirely  up  to  it, 
that  our  work  overpowers  us. 

O  giver  of  thyself!  at  the  vision  of  thee  as  joy 
let  our  souls  flame  up  to  thee  as  the  fire,  flow  on  to 
thee  as  the  river,  permeate  thy  being  as  the  fragrance 

*  Vichaiti  chante  vl9vamadau.    '  SvabhavikI  jnana  bala  kriya  cha. 


134 


SADHANA 


VI 


of  the  flower.  Give  us  strength  to  love,  to  love 
fully,  our  life  In  its  joys  and  sorrows,  in  its  gains  and 
losses,  in  its  rise  and  fall.  Let  us  have  strength 
enough  fully  to  see  and  hear  thy  universe,  and  to 
work  with  full  vigour  therein.  Let  us  fully  live 
the  life  thou  hast  given  us,  let  us  bravely  take  and 
bravely  give.  This  is  our  prayer  to  thee.  Xet  ps 
once  for  all  dislodge  from  our  minds  the  feeble  fane 
that  would  make  out  thy  joy  to  be  a  thing  apart  froni^ 
action,  thin,  forniless,  and  unsustained.  Wherever 
the  peasanTTiUs  the  hard  earth,  there  does  thy  joy 
gush  out  in  the  green  of  the  corn,  wherever  man 
displaces  the  entangled  forest,  smooths  the  stony 
ground,  and  clears  for  himself  a  homestead,  there 
does  thy  joy  enfold  it  in  orderliness  and  peace. 

O  worker  of  the  universe!  We  would  pray  to 
thee  to  let  the  irresistible  current  of  thy  universal 
energy  come  like  the  impetuous  south  wind  of 
spring,  let  it  come  rushing  over  the  vast  field  of  the 
life  of  man,  let  it  bring  the  scent  of  many  flowers, 
the  murmurings  of  many  woodlands,  let  it  make 
sweet  and  vocal  the  lifelessness  of  our  dried-up  soul- 
life.  Let  our  newly  awakened  powers  cry  out  for 
unlimited  fulfilment  in  leaf  and  flower  and  fruit. 


VII 


THE  REALISATION  OF  BEAUTY 


DS 


THE  REALISATION  OF  BEAUTY 


Things  In  which  we  do  not  take  joy  are  either  a 
burden  upon  our  minds  to  be  got  rid  of  at  any  cost; 
or  they  are  useful,  and  therefore  in  temporary  and 
partial  relation  to  us,  becoming  burdensome  when 
their  utility  is  lost;  or  they  are  like  wandering  vaga- 
bonds, loitering  for  a  moment  on  the  outskirts  of  our 
recognition,  and  then  passing  on.  .A  thing  is  only 
completely  our  own  wheaiti?  a  thing  of  Xoxtp  us. 

The  greater  part  of  this  world  is  to  us  as  If  It 
were  nothing.  But  we  cannot  allow  it  to  remain  so, 
for  thus  it  belittles  our  own  self.  The  enrire  worid 
is  given  to  us,  and  all  our  powers  have  their  final 
meaning  in  the  faith  that  by  their  help  we  are  to 
take  possession  of  our  patrimony. 

But  what  is  the  function  of  our  sense  of  beauty  in 
this  process  of  the  extension  of  our  consciousness.? 
Is  it  there  to  separate  truth  into  strong  lights  and 
shadows,  and  bring  it  before  us  in  its  uncompro- 
mising distinction  of  beauty  and  ugliness?  If  that 
were  so,  then  we  would  have  had  to  admit  that  this 
sense  of  beauty  creates  a  dissension  in  our  universe 


138 


SADHANA 


VII 


and  sets  up  a  wall  of  hindrance  across  the  highway  oi 
communication  that  leads  from  everything  to  all 
things. 

But  that  cannot  be  true.  As  long  as  our  realisa- 
tion is  incomplete  a  division  necessarily  remains 
between  things  known  and  unknown,  pleasant  and 
unpleasant.  But  in  spite  of  the  dictum  of  some 
philosophers  man  does  not  accept  any  arbitrary  and 
absolute  limit  to  his  knowable  world.  Every  day 
his  science  is  penetrating  into  the  region  formerly 
marked  in  his  map  as  unexplored  or  inexplorable. 
Our  sense  of  beauty  is  similarly  engaged  in  ever 
pushing  on  its  conquests.  Truth  is  ^yfiry^^^^i 
therefore  w^iytb^'"P[  ^'^  ^^'^  nKjnnt  nf  >.i«,i^,^.^.y|^^^^ 
Beauty  i$..omniprpspnt,  thrrrfor^  everything  is  ca-^ 
pable  of  giving  us  joy- 

In  the  early  days  of  his  history  man  took  every- 
thing as  a  phenomenon  of  life.  His  science  of  life 
began  by  creating  a  sharp  distinction  between  life 
and  non-life.  But  as  it  is  proceeding  farther  and 
farther  the  line  of  demarcation  between  the  animate 
and  inanimate  is  growing  more  and  more  dim.  In 
the  beginning  of  our  apprehension  these  sharp  lines 
of  contrast  are  helpful  to  us,  but  as  our  comprehen- 
sion becomes  clearer  they  gradually  fade  away. 
^The  Upani§had,<)  have  said  that  all  things  are 
created  and  sustained  by  an  infinite  joy.  To  realise 
this  principle  of  creation  we  have  to  start  with  a 
division — the  division  into  the  beautiful  and  the  non- 


VII      THE  REALISATION  OF  BEAUTY     139 

beautiful.  Then  the  apprehension  of  beauty  has  to 
come  to  us  with  a  vigorous  blow  to  awaken  our 
consciousness  from  its  primitive  lethargy,  and  it 
attains  its  object  by  the  urgency  of  the  contrast. 
Therefore  our  first  acquaintance  with  beauty  is  in 
her  dress  of  motley  colours,  that  affects  us  with  its 
stripes  and  feathers,  nay,  with  its  disfigurements. 
But  as  our  acquaintance  ripens,  the  apparent  dis- 
cords are  resolved  int^^^i^lodulatlons  of  rhythm.  At 
first  we  detach  be^^rty  from  its  surroundings,  we  hold 
it  apart  f rom/rfie  rest,  but  at  the  end  we  realise  its 
harmony  With  all.  Then  the  music  of  beauty  has  no 
more  ne^  of  exciting  us  with  loud  noise;  it  renounces 
violelnce,  and  appeals  to  our  heart  with  the  truth 
that  it  is  meekness  Inherits  the  earth. 

In  some  stage  of  our  growth,  in  some  period  of 
our  history,  we  try  to  set  up  a  special  cult  of  beauty, 
and  pare  it  down  to  a  narrow  circuit,  so  as  to  make 
it  a  matter  of  pride  for  a  chosen  few.  Then  it 
breeds  in  its  votariesj^^^tati^n^  ^"^  eyag^eratinas. 
as  it  did  with  the  BrahminsJj^.the  time  of  thfi  decad- 


ence of  Indii  

*tEe  h'ighe'r"truth  fell  awav  and  superstitions  grew  up 

unchecked.         ^ 

[n  the  history  of  aesthetics  there  also  comes  an 
age  of  emancipation  when  the  recognition  of  beauty 
in  things  great  and  small  become  easy,  and  when  we 
see  it  more  In  the  unassuming  harmony  of  common 
objects  than  in  things  startling  in  their  singularity. 


140 


SADHANA 


VII 


So  much  so,  that  we  have  to  go  through  the  stages 
of  reaction  when  in  the  representation  of  beauty  we 
try  to  avoid  everything  that  Is  obviously  pleasing 
and  that  has  been  crowned  by  the  sanction  of  con- 
vention. We  are  then  tempted  in  defiance  to  ex- 
aggerate the  commonness  of  commonplace  things, 
thereby  making  them  aggressively  uncommon.  To 
restore  harmony  we  create  the  discords  which  are  a 
feature  of  all  reactions.  We  already  see  in  the 
present  age  the  sign  of  this  aesthetic  reaction,  which 
proves  that  man  has  at  last  come  to  know  that  it 
is  only  the  narrowness  of  perception  which  sharply 
divides  the  field  of  his  aesthetic  consciousn^^f^  ^'^^^^ 
ugliness  and  beautv.  When  he  has  the  power  to  see 
things  detached  from  self-interest  and  from  the 
insistent  claims  of  the  lust  of  the  senses,  then  alone 
can  he  have  the  true  vision  of  the  beauty  that  is 
everywhere.  Then  only  can  he  see  that  what  is 
unpleasant  to  us  is  not  necessarily  unbeautiful,  but 
has  its  beauty  in  truth. 

When  we  say  that  beauty  is  everywhere  we  do 
not  mean  that  the  word  ugliness  should  be  abolished 
from  our  language,  just  as  it  would  be  absurd  to  say 
that  there  Is  no  such  thing  as  untruth.  Untruth 
there  certainly  is,  not  in  the  system  of  the  universe, 
but  in  our  power  of  comprehension,  as  its  negative 
element.  In  the  same  manner  there  is  ugliness  in 
the  distorted  expression  of  beauty  in  our  life  and  in 
our  art  which  comes  from  our  imperfect  realisation 


VII       THE  REALISATION  OF  BEAUTY      141 

of  Truth.  To  a  certain  extent  we  can  set  our  life 
against  the  law  of  truth  which  Is  In  us  and  which  Is 
In  all,  and  likewise  we  can  give  rise  to  ugliness  by. 
going  counter  to  the  eternal  law  of  harmony  which  Is 
everywhere. 

Through     nnr     SP^rp     nf     tmr^      "-""^     rnnlinn     Iniir     I'n 

rreationr  and  through  o^ir  sppsp  of  beauty  we  realise 
harmony  in  the  universe.     When  we  recognise  the 
law  In  nature  we  extend  our  mastery  over  physical 
forces  and  become  powerful;  when  we  recognise  the 
law  In  our  moral  nature  we  attain  mastery  over  self 
and   become   free.      In   like   manner  the   more  we 
comprehend  the  harmony  in  the  physical  world  the 
more  our  life  shares  the  gladness  of  creation,  and  our 
expression  of  beauty   in    art  becomes   more   truly 
catholic.    As  we  become  conscious  of  the  harmony 
irTou?  soul,  our  apprehension  of  the  blissfulness  of 
the  spirit  of  the  world  becomes  universal,  and  the 
expression  of  beauty  In  our  life  moves  in  goodness 
and  love  towards  the  infinite.    This  Is  the  ultimate 
object  of  our  existence,  that  we  must  ever  know 
that  "beauty   is   truth,   truth   beauty";  we   must  [ 
realise  the  whole  world  in  love,  for  love  gives  It  | 
birth,  sustains  it,  and  takes  it  back  to  Its  bosom.  \ 
We  must  have  that  perfect  emancipation  of  heart 
which  gives  us  the  power  to  stand  at  the  Innermost  : 
centre  of  things  and  have  the  taste  of  that  fullness  of  | 
disinterested  joy  which  belongs  to  Brahma. 
Music  Is  the  purest  form  of  art,  and  therefore 


142 


SADHANA 


VII 


the  most  direct  expression  of  beauty,  with  a  form 
and  spirit  which  is  one  and  simple,  and  least  en- 
cumbered with  anything  extraneous.  We  seem  to 
feel  that  the  manifestation  of  the  infinite  in  the 
finite  forms  of  creation  is  music  itself,  silent  and 
visible.  The  evening  sky,  tirelessly  repeating  the 
starry  constellations,  seems  like  a  child  struck  with 
wonder  at  the  mystery  of  its  own  first  utterance, 
lisping  the  same  word  over  and  over  again,  and 
listening  to  it  in  unceasing  joy.  When  in  the  rainy 
night  of  July  the  darkness  is  thick  upon  the  meadows 
and  the  pattering  rain  draws  veil  upon  veil  over  the 
stillness  of  the  slumbering  earth,  this  monotony  of 
the  rain  patter  seems  to  be  the  darkness  of  sound 
itself.  The  gloom  of  the  dim  and  dense  line  of 
trees,  the  thorny  bushes  scattered  in  the  bare  heath 
like  floating  heads  of  swimmers  with  bedraggled 
hair,  the  smell  of  the  damp  grass  and  the  wet  earth, 
the  spire  of  the  temple  rising  above  the  undefined 
mass  of  blackness  grouped  around  the  village  huts — 
everything  seems  like  notes  rising  from  the  heart  of 
the  night,  mingling  and  losing  themselves  in  the  one 
sound  of  ceaseless  rain  filling  the  sky. 

Therefore  the  true  poets,  they  who  are  seers,  seek 
to  express  t]\e.  nnivrrTr  in  liiiim  i  iiT  iiiiinliii 

They  rarely  use  symbols  of  painting  to  express 
the  unfolding  of  forms,  the  mingling  of  endless  lines 
and  colours  that  goes  on  every  moment  on  the  canvas 
of  the  blue  sky. 


VII       THE  REALISATION  OF  BEAUTY      143 


They  have  their  reason.  For  the  man  who  paints 
must  have  canvas,  brush,  and  colour-box.  The  first 
touch  of  his  brush  is  very  far  from  the  complete 
idea.  And  then  when  the  work  is  finished  the 
artist  is  gone,  the  widowed  picture  stands  alone,  the 
incessant  touches  of  love  of  the  creative  hand  are 
withdrawn. 

But  the  singer  has  everything  within  him.  The 
notes  come  out  from  his  very  life.  They  are  not  mate- 
rials gathered  from  outside.  His  idea  and  his  expres- 
sion are  brother  and  sister;  very  often  they  are  born 
as  twins.  In  music  the  heart  reveals  itself  immedi- 
ately; it  suffers  not  from  any  barrier  of  alien  material. 

Therefore  though  music  has  to  wait  for  its  com-\ 
pleteness  like  any  other  art,  yet  at  every  step  it  gives 
out  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  As  the  material  of 
expression  even  words  are  barriers,  for  their  meaning 
has  to  be  construed  by  thought.  But  music  never 
has  to  depend  upon  any  obvious  meaning;  it  ex- 
presses what  no  words  can  ever  express. 

What  is  more,  music  and  the  musician  are  in- 
separable. When  the  singer  departs,  his  singing 
dies  with  him;  it  is  in  eternal  union  with  the  life 
and  joy  of  the  master. 

This  world-song  is  never  for  a  moment  separated 
from  its  singer.  It  is  not  fashioned  from  any  outward 
material.  It  is  his  joy  itself  taking  never-ending 
form.  It  is  the  great  heart  sending  the  tremor 
of  its  thrill  over  the  sky. 


144 


SADHANA 


VII 


There  is  a  perfection  in  each  individual  strain  of 
this  music,  which  is  the  revelation  of  completion  in 
the  incomplete.  No  one  of  its  notes  is  final,  yet 
each  reflects  the  Infinite. 

What  does  it  matter  if  we  fail  to  derive  the  ex- 
act meaning  of  this  great  harmony?  Is  it  not  like 
the  hand  meeting  the  string  and  drawing  out  at 
once  all  its  tones  at  the  touch?  It  is  the  language 
of  beauty,  the  caress,  that  comes  from  the  heart  of 
the  world  and  straightway  reaches  our  heart. 

Last  night,  in  the  silence  which  pervaded  the 
darkness,  I  stood  alone  and  heard  the  voice  of  the 
singer  of  eternal  melodies.  When  I  went  to  sleep  I 
closed  my  eyes  with  this  last  thought  in  my  mind, 
that  even  when  I  remain  unconscious  in  slumber  the 
dance  of  life  will  still  go  on  in  the  hushed  arena  of 
my  sleeping  body,  keeping  step  with  the  stars.  The 
heart  will  throb,  the  blood  will  leap  in  the  veins, 
and  the  millions  of  living  atoms  of  my  body  will 
vibrate  in  tune  with  the  note  of  the  harp-string  that 
thrills  at  the  touch  of  the  master. 


VIII 


THE  REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE 


us 


THE  REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE 


The  Upanishads  say:  "Man  becomes  true  if  in 
this  life  he  can  apprehend  God;  if  not,  it  is  the 
greatest  calamity  for  him." 

But  what  is  the  nature  of  this  attainment  of  God? 
It  is  quite  evident  that  the  infinite  is  not  like  one 
object  among  many,  to  be  definitely  classified  and 
kept  among  our  possessions,  to  be  used  as  an  ally 
specially  favouring  us  in  our  politics,  warfare, 
money-making,  or  in  social  competitions.  We  can- 
not put  our  God  in  the  same  list  with  our  summer- 
houses,  motor-cars,  or  our  credit  at  the  bank,  as  so 
many  people  seem  to  want  to  do. 

We  must  try  to  understand  the  true  character  of 
the  desire  that  a  man  has  when  his  soul  longs  for 
his  God.  Does  it  consist  of  his  wish  to  make  an 
addition,  however  valuable,  to  his  belongings.^ 
Emphatically  no!  It  is  an  endlessly  wearisome 
task,  this  continual  adding  to  our  stores.  In  fact, 
when  the  soul  seeks  God  she  seeks  her  final  escape 
from  this  incessant  gathering  and  heaping  and  never 
coming  to  an  end.     It  is  not  an  additional  object 

147 


C^ 


148 


SADHANA 


VIII 


that  she  seeks,  but  it  is  the  nityo  ^nitydndm,  the 
permanent  in  all  that  is  impermanent,  the  rasanam 
rasatamah,  the  highest  abiding  joy  unifying  all 
enjoyments.  Therefore  when  the  Upanishads  teach 
us  to  realise  everything  in  Brahma,  it  is  not  to 
seek  something  extra,  not  to  manufacture  some- 
thing new. 

Know  everything  that  there  is  in  the  universe  as 
enveloped  hy  God}  Enjoy  whatever  is  given  by  him 
and  harbour  not  in  your  mind  the  greed  for  wealth 
which  is  not  your  own} 

When  you  know  that  whatever  there  is  is  filled 
by  him  and  whatever  you  have  is  his  gift,  then  you 
realise  the  infinite  in  the  finite,  and  the  giver  in  the 
gifts.  Then  you  know  that  all  the  facts  of  the 
reality  have  their  only  meaning  in  the  manifestation 
of  the  one  truth,  and  all  your  possessions  have  their 
only  significance  for  you,  not  in  themselves  but  in 
the  relation  they  establish  with  the  infinite. 

So  it  cannot  be  said  that  we  can  find  Brahma  as 
we  find  other  objects;  there  is  no  question  of  search- 
ing for  him  in  one  thing  in  preference  to  another, 
In  one  place  instead  of  somewhere  else.  We  do 
not  have  to  run  to  the  grocer's  shop  for  our  morn- 
ing light;  we  open  our  eyes  and  there  it  is;  so  we 
need  only  give  ourselves  up  to  find  that  Brahma  is 
everywhere. 

*  I^havasyamdiam  sarvam  yat  kincha  jagatyanjagat. 
*Tena  tyaktena  bhunjitha  ma  gridhah  kasyasviddhanam. 


VIII     REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE   149 

This  is  the  reasou  why  Buddha  admonished  us  to 
free  ourselves  from  the  confinement  of  the  life  of 
the  self.  If  there  were  nothing  else  to  take  its  place 
more  positively  perfect  and  satisfying,  then  such 
admonition  would  be  absolutely  unmeaning.  No 
man  can  seriously  consider  the  advice,  much  less 
have  any  enthusiasm  for  it,  of  surrendering  every- 
thing one  has  for  gaining  nothing  whatever. 

So  our  daily  worship  of  God  is  not  really  the 
process  of  gradual  acquisition  of  him,  but  the  daily 
process  of  surrendering  ourselves,  removing  all 
obstacles  to  union  and  extending  our  consciousness 
of  him  in  devotion  and  service,  in  goodness  and 
in  love. 

The  Upanishads  say:  Be  lost  altogether  in  Brahma 
like  an  arrow  that  has  completely  penetrated  its  target. 
Thus  to  be  conscious  of  being  absolutely  enveloped 
by  Brahma  is  not  an  act  of  mere  concentration  of 
mind.  It  must  be  the  aim  of  the  whole  of  our  life. 
In  all  our  thoughts  and  deeds  we  must  be  conscious 
of  the  infinite.  Let  the  realisation  of  this  truth 
become  easier  every  day  of  our  life,  that  none  could 
live  or  move  if  the  energy  of  the  all-pervading  joy  did 
not  fill  the  sky}  In  all  our  actions  let  us  feel  that 
Impetus  of  the  infinite  energy  and  be  glad. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  infinite  is  beyond  our  at- 
tainment, so  it  is  for  us  as  if  it  were  naught.  Yes,  if 
the  word  attainment  implies  any  idea  of  possession, 

*  Ko  hyevanyat  kah  pranyat  yadesha  aka^ha  anando  na  syat. 


ISO 


SADHANA 


VIII 


then  It  must  be  admitted  that  the  infinite  is  unattain- 
able.    But  we  must  keep  in  rrilnA  that  tb^  highpf^t 

ftiinjjDfnt  ^^  "^^"  ^'s  not  in  tl]r  hnvinr;  Hit  in 

flatting,  which  is  at  the  same  tiprie  not  getting.  Our^ 
physical  pleasures  leave  no  margin  for  the  unrealised. 
They,  like  the  dead  satellite  of  the  earth,  have  but 
little  atmosphere  around  them.  When  we  take 
food  and  satisfy  our  hunger  it  is  a  complete  act  of 
possession.  So  long  as  the  hunger  is  not  satisfied  it 
is  a  pleasure  to  eat.  For  then  our  enjoyment  of 
eating  touches  at  every  point  the  infinite.  But, 
when  it  attains  completion,  or  in  other  words,  when 
our  desire  for  eating  reaches  the  end  of  the  stage  of 
its  non-realisation,  it  reaches  the  end  of  its  pleasure. 
In  all  our  intellectual  pleasures  the  margin  is  broader, 
the  limit  is  far  off.  In  all  our  deeper  love  getting  and 
non-getting  run  ever  parallel.  In  one  of  our  Vaish- 
nava  lyrics  the  lover  says  to  his  beloved:  "I  feel 
as  if  I  have  gazed  upon  the  beauty  of  thy  face  from 
my  birth,  yet  my  eyes  are  hungry  still ;  as  if  I  have 
kept  thee  pressed  to  my  heart  for  millions  of  years, 
yet  my  heart  is  not  satisfied." 

This  makes  it  clear  that  it  is  really  the  infinite 
whom  we  seek  in  our  pleasures.  Our  desire  for 
being  wealthy  is  not  a  desire  for  a  particular  sum  of 
money  but  it  is  indefinite,  and  the  most  fleeting  of 
our  enjoyments  are  but  the  momentary  touches  of 
the  eternal.  The  tragedy  of  human  life  consists  in 
our  vain  attempts  to  stretch  the  limits  of  things 


Mr 


VIII     REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE   151 

which  can  never  become  unlimited,— to  reach  the 
infinite  by  absurdly  adding  to  the  rungs  of  the  ladder 
of  the  finite. 

It  is  evident  from  this  that  the  real  desire  of  our 
soul  is  to  get  beyond  all  our  possessions.  Surrounded 
by  things  she  can  touch  and  feel,  she  cries,  "I  am 
weary  of  getting;  ah,  where  is  he  who  is  never  to 
begot.?" 

Me  see  everywhere  in  the  hJstnry  of  rr.on  tK.^  |h^ 
s^irit^of  renunciation  is  the  deepest  realitv  of  the 


human  soul.  When. the  soul  says  of  anything,  "I 
do  not  want  it,  for  I  am  above  it,"  she  gives  utter- 
ance to  the  highest  truth  that  is  in  her.  When  a 
girl's  life  outgrows  her  doll,  when  she  realises  that 
in  every  respect  she  is  more  than  her  doll  is,  then 
she  throws  it  away.  By  the  very  act  of  possession 
we  know  that  we  are  greater  than  the  things  we 
possess.  It  is  a  perfect  misery  to  be  kept  bound  up 
with  things  lesser  than  ourselves.  This  it  is  that 
Maitreyi  felt  when  her  husband  gave  her  his  prop- 
erty on  the  eve  of  leaving  home.  She  asked  him, 
"Would  these  material  things  help  one  to  attain  the 
highest.?" — or,  in  other  words,  "Are  they  more  than 
my  soul  to  me?"  When  her  husband  answered, 
"They  will  make  you  rich  in  worldly  possessions," 
she  said  at  once,  "Then  what  am  I  to  do  with  these.?" 
It  is  only  when  a  man  truly  realises  what  his  pos- 
sessions are  that  he  has  no  more  illusions  about  them; 
then  he  knows  his  soul  is  far  above  these  things  and 


i^i 


iSz 


SADHANA 


via 


he  becomes  free  from  their  bondage.  Thus  man 
truly  realises  his  soul  by  outgrowing  his  possessions, 
and  man's  progress  in^  the  path  of  eternal  life_is 
through^jeriesj^jj^nuac^ 

TIiarwe''ca^  absolutely  possess  the  infinite 
being  is  not  a  mere  intellectual  proposition.  It  has 
to  be  experienced,  and  this  experience  is  bliss.  The 
bird,  while  taking  its  flight  in  the  sky,  experiences 
at  every  beat  of  its  wings  that  the  sky  is  boundless, 
that  its  wings  can  never  carry  it  beyond.  Therein 
lies  its  joy.  In  the  cage  the  sky  is  limited;  it  may 
be  quite  enough  for  all  the  purposes  of  the  bird's 
life,  only  it  is  not  more  than  is  necessary.  The  bird 
cannot  rejoice  within  the  limits  of  the  necessary.  It 
must  feel  that  what  it  has  is  immeasurably  more  than 
it  ever  can  want  or  comprehend,  and  then  only  can 

it  be  glad. 

Thus  our  soul  must  soar  in  the  infinite,  and  she 
must  feel  every  moment  that  in  the  sense  of  not 
being  able  to  come  to  the  end  of  her  attainment  is 
her  supreme  joy,  her  final  freedom. 

;^^Ian!s-ahidin£ji^ppmessLi^^ 

^imselfr-^^^^^  ^^^  ^^  larger  than-hiiixidividual 
life,  the  idea  of  his  country^of  humanity,  of  God. 
They  make  it  easier  for  him  to  part  with  all  that  he 
has,  not  excepting  his  life.  His  existence  is  miser- 
able and  sordid  till  he  finds  some  great  idea  which 
can  truly  claim  his  all,  which  can  release  him  from 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE    153 

all  attachment  to  his  belongings.  Buddha  and  Jesus, 
and  all  our  great  prophets,  represent  such  great  ideas. 
They  hold  before  us  opportunities  for  surrender- 
ing our  all.  When  they  bring  forth  their  divine 
alms-bowl  we  feel  we  cannot  help  giving,  and  we 
find  that  in  giving  is  our  truest  joy  and  liberation, 
for  it  is  uniting  ourselves  to  that  extent  with  the 
infinite. 

Man  is  not  complete;  he  is  yet  to  be.  In  what 
he  is  he  is  small,  and  if  we  could  conceive  him 
stopping  there  for  eternity  we  should  have  an  idea 
of  the  most  awful  hell  that  man  can  imagine.  In 
his  to  he  he  is  infinite,  there  is  his  heaven,  his  deliver- 
ance. His  is  is  occupied  every  moment  with  what 
it  can  get  and  have  done  with;  his  to  he  is  hunger- 
ing for  something  which  is  more  than  can  be  got, 
which  he  never  can  lose  because  he  never  has  pos- 
sessed. 

The  finite  pole  of  our  existence  has  its  place  in 
the  world  of  necessity.  There  man  goes  about 
searching  for  food  to  live,  clothing  to  get  warmth. 
In  this  region — the  region  of  nature — it  is  his  function 
to  get  things.  The  natural  man  is  occupied  with 
enlarging  his  possessions. 

But  this  act  of  getting  is  partial.  It  is  limited 
to  man's  necessities.  We  can  have  a  thing  only  to 
the  extent  of  our  requirements,  just  as  a  vessel  can 
contain  water  only  to  the  extent  of  its  emptiness. 
Our  relation  to  food  is  only  in  feeding,  our  relation 


1 54 


sAdhana 


VIII 


to  a  house  is  on^y  in  habitation.  We  call  it  a  benefit 
when  a  thing  is  fitted  only  to  some  particular  want 
of  ours.  Thus  to  get  is  always  to  get  partially, 
and  it  never  can  be  otherwise.  So  this  craving  for 
acquisition  belongs  to  our  finite  self. 

But  that  side  of  our  existence  whose  direction  is 
towards  the  infinite  seeks  not  wealth,  but  freedom 
and  joy.  There  the  reign  of  necessity  ceases,  and 
there  our  function  is  not  to  get  but  to  be.  To  be 
what?  To  be  one  with  Brahma.  For  the  region 
of  the  infinite  is  the  region  of  unity.  Therefore  the 
Upanishads  say:  If  man  apprehends  God  he  be- 
comei  true.  Here  it  is  becoming,  it  is  not  having 
more.  Words  do  not  gather  bulk  when  you  know 
their  meaning;  they  become  true  by  being  one  with 
the  idea. 

Though  the  West  has  accepted  as  its  teacher  him 
who  boldly  proclaimed  his  oneness  with  his  Father, 
and  who  exhorted  his  followers  to  be  perfect  as  God, 
it  has  never  been  reconciled  to  this  idea  of  our  unity 
with  the  infinite  being.  It  condemns,  as  a  piece  of 
blasphemy,  any  implication  of  man's  becoming  God. 
This  is  certainly  not  the  idea  that  Christ  preached, 
nor  perhaps  the  idea  of  the  Christian  mystics,  but 
this  seems  to  be  the  idea  that  has  become  popular  in 
the  Christian  west. 

But  the  highest  wisdom  in  the  East  holds  that  it 
Is  not  the  function  of  our  soul  to  gain  God,  to  utilise 
him  for  any  special  material  purpose.  _^^  that  wc- — - 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE    155 


can  ever  aspire  tois  to  become  more  and  more  one^ 
with  God.  In  the  region  of  nature,  which  is  the 
region  of  diversity,  we  grow  by  acquisition;  in  the 
spiritual  world,  which  is  the  region  of  unity,  we 
grow  by  losing  ourselves,  by  uniting.  Gaining  a 
thing,  as  we  have  said,  is  by  its  nature  partial,  it  is 
limited  only  to  a  particular  want;  but  being  is  com- 
plete, it  belongs  to  our  wholeness,  it  springs  not  from 
any  necessity  but  from  our  affinity  with  the  infinite, 
which  is  the  principle  of  perfection  that  we  have  in 

our  soul. 

Yes,  we  must  become  Brahma.  We  must  not 
shrink  to  avow  this.  Our  existence  is  meaningless 
if  we  never  can  expect  to  realise  the  highest  perfection 
that  there  is.  If  we  have  an  aim  and  yet  can  never 
reach  it,  then  it  is  no  aim  at  all. 

But  can  it  then  be  said  that  there  is  no  difference 
between  Brahma  and  our  individual  soul?  Of  course 
the  difference  is  obvious.  Call  it  illusion  or  igno- 
rance, or  whatever  name  you  may  give  it,  it  is  there. 
You  can  offer  explanations  but  you  cannot  explain 
It  away.    Even  illusion  is  true  as  illusion. 

Brahma   is  Brahma^  he   is   the   infinite  ideal  of 


perfection.  But  we  are  not  what  we  truly  are;  we 
are  ever  to  become  true,  ever  to  become  Brahma. 
There  is  the  eternal  play  of  love  in  the  relation  be- 
tween this  being  and  the  becoming;  and  in  the  depth 
of  this  mystery  is  the  source  of  all  truth  and  beauty  I 
that  sustains  the  endless  march  of  creation. 


iS6 


SADHANA 


VIII 


In  the  music  of  the  rushing  stream  sounds  the 
joyful  assurance,  "I  shall  become  the  sea."  It  is 
not  a  vain  assumption;  it  is  true  humility,  for  it  is 
the  truth.  The  river  has  no  other  alternative.  On 
both  sides  of  its  banks  it  has  numerous  fields  and 
forests,  villages  and  towns;  it  can  serve  them  in 
various  ways,  cleanse  them  and  feed  them,  carry  their 
produce  from  place  to  place.  But  it  can  have  only 
partial  relations  with  tfiese,  and  however  long  it  may 
linger  among  them  it  remains  separate;  it  never  can 
become  a  town  or  a  forest. 

But  it  can  and  does  become  the  sea.  The  lesser 
moving  water  has  its  affinity  with  the  great  motion- 
less water  of  the  ocean.  It  moves  through  the 
thousand  objects  on  its  onward  course,  and  its  motion 
finds  its  finality  when  it  reaches  the  sea. 

The  river  can  become  the  sea,  but  she  can  never 
make  the  sea  part  and  parcel  of  herself.  If,  by  some 
chance,  she  has  encircled  some  broad  sheet  of  water 
and  pretends  that  she  has  made  the  sea  a  part  of  her- 
self, we  at  once  know  that  it  is  not  so,  that  her 
current  is  still  seeking  rest  in  the  great  ocean  to 
which  it  can  never  set  boundaries. 

In  the  same  manner,  our  soul  can  only  become 
Brahma  as  the  river  can  become  the  sea.  Every- 
thing else  she  touches  at  one  of  her  points,  then 
leaves  and  moves  on,  but  she  never  can  leave  Brahma 
and  move  beyond  him.  Once  our  soul  realises  her 
ultimate  object  of  repose  in  Brahma,  all  her  move- 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE    157 

ments  acquire  a  purpose.  It  is  this  ocean  of  infinite 
rest  which  gives  significance  to  endless  activities.  It 
is  this  perfectness  of  being  that  lends  to  the  imper- 
fection of  becoming  that  quality  nfj^eanty  which 
finds  its  expression  in  all  poetry,  drama,  and  art. 

There  must  be  a  compIeteT3ea  that  animates  a 
poem.  Every  sentence  of  the  poem  touches  that 
idea.  When  the  reader  realises  that  pervading  idea, 
as  he  reads  on,  then  the  reading  of  the  poem  is  full 
of  joy  to  him.  Then  every  part  of  the  poem  be- 
comes radiantly  significant  by  the  light  of  the  whole. 
But  if  the  poem  goes  on  interminably,  never  ex- 
pressing the  idea  of  the  whole,  only  throwing  off 
disconnected  images,  however  beautiful,  it  becomes 
wearisome  and  unprofitable  in  the  extreme.  The 
progress  of  our  soul  is  like  a  perfect  poem.  It  has 
an  infinite  idea  which  once  realised  makes  all  move- 
ments full  of  meaning  and  joy.  But  if  we  detach  its 
movements  from  that  ultimate  idea,  if  we  do  not  see 
the  infinite  rest  and  only  see  the  infinite  motion,  then 
existence  appears  to  us  a  monstrous  evil,  impetuously 
rushing  towards  an  unending  aimlessness. 

I  remember  in  our  childhood  we  had  a  teacher 
who  used  to  make  us  learn  by  heart  the  whole  book 
of  Sanskrit  grammar,  which  is  written  in  symbols, 
without  explaining  their  meaning  to  us.  Day  after 
day  we  went  toiling  on,  but  on  towards  what,  we  had 
not  the  least  notion.  So,  as  regards  our  lessons,  we 
were  in  the  position  of  the  pessimist  who  only  counts 


IS8 


SADHANA 


VIII 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE    159 


the  breathless  activities  of  the  world,  but  cannot  see 
the  Infinite  repose  of  the  perfection  whence  these 
activities  are  gaining  their  equilibrium  every  moment 
in  absolute  fitness  and  harmony.  We  lose  all  joy  in 
thus  contemplating  existence,  because  we  miss  the 
truth.  We  see  the  gesticulations  of  the  dancer,  and 
we  Imagine  these  are  directed  by  a  ruthless  tyranny 
of  chance,  while  we  are  deaf  to  the  eternal  music 
which  makes  every  one  of  these  gestures  Inevitably 
spontaneous  and  beautiful.  These  motions  are  ever 
growing  Into  that  music  of  perfection,  becoming  one 
with  it,  dedicating  to  that  melody  at  every  step  the 
multitudinous  forms  they  go  on  creating. 

And  this  Is  the  truth  of  our  soul,  and  this  is  her 
joy,  that  she  must  ever  be  growing  into  Brahma, 
that  all  her  movements  should  be  modulated  by  this 
ultimate  idea,  and  all  her  creations  should  be  given 
as  offerings  to  the  supreme  spirit  of  perfection. 

There  Is  a  remarkable  saying  in  the  Upanishads: 
/  think  not  that  I  know  him  well,  or  that  I  know  him^ 
or  even  that  I  know  him  not} 

By  the  process  of  knowledge  we  can  never  know 
the  Infinite  being.  But  if  he  is  altogether  beyond 
our  reach,  then  he  is  absolutely  nothing  to  us. 
The  truth  is  that  we  know  him  not,  yet  we  know 
him. 

This  has  been  explained  In  another  saying  of  the 
Upanishads:  From  Brahma  words  come  back  baffled^ 

*  Naham  manye  suvedcti  no  na  vedcti  vcdacha. 


as  well  as  the  mind,  but  he  who  knows  him  by  the  joy  oj 
him  is  free  from  all  fears} 

Knowledge  is  partial,  because  our  Intellect  Is  an 
instrument,  it  is  only  a  part  of  us.  It  can  give  us 
Information  about  things  which  can  be  divided  and 
analysed,  and  whose  properties  can  be  classified, 
part  by  part.  But  Brahma  is  perfect,  and  knowl- 
edge which  Is  partial  can  never  be  a  knowledge  of 
him. 

But  he  can  be  known  by  jov.  bv  love.  For  joy 
Is  knowledge  In  its  cojnpleleness,  it  is  knowing 
by  our  whole  being.  Tn±i>11p;gi;  sets  us  apart  from  the 
thinps^JLo^be  known,  but  love  knows  Its  object  by 
fusion.  Such  knowledge  is  immediate  and  admits  no 
[oubt.  It  is  the  same  as  knowing  our  own  selves, 
only  more  so. 


Wnw  T^rahmi^t  words  ran  nf^vcr  describe  him:  he  can^ 
oqly  be  known  by  our  soul,  by  her  joy  In  him,  by 


ler  love.  Or,  In  other  words,  we  can  only  come 
into  relation  with  him  by  union — union  of  our 
jyhole  being.    We  must  be  one  with  our  Father,  we 

rajtist  be  perfect  as  ^^^g,         

But  how  can  that  be.**  There  can  be  no  grade  in 
infinite  perfection.  We  cannot  grow  more  and  more 
Into  Brahma.  He  is  the  absolute  one,  and  there  can 
be  no  more  or  less  in  him. 

^  Yato  vacho  nivartante  aprapya  manasa  saha  anandam  brahmano 
vidvan  na  vibhcti  kuta^chana. 


i6o 


SADHANA 


VIII 


il—ai 


Indeed^  the  real'g^i^if^n  <^f  t^^  fnrnmj^fnfgn^  the 
supreme  soul,  within  our  antaratn\n.n^  onr  inner^ 
individual  soul^  is  in  a  state  ^f  ahfio^"^^  ^^^p^^tifta 
We^nnot  think  of  it  as  non-existent  and  depending 
on  our  limited  powers  for  its  gradual  construction. 
If  our  relation  with  the  divine  were  all  a  thing  of 
our  own  making,  how  should  we  rely  on  it  as  true, 
and  how  should  it  lend  us  support? 

Yes,  we  must  know  that  within  us  we  have  that 
where  space  and  time  cease  to  rule  and  where  the 
links  of  evolution  are  merged  in  unity.  In  that 
everlasting  abode  of  the  dtman^  the  soul,  the  revela- 
tion of  the  paramdtman,  the  supreme  soul,  is  already 
A  complete.  Therefore  the  Upanishads  say:  He  who 
knows  Brahman^  the  true,  the  all-conscious,  and  the 
infinite  as  hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  soul,  which  is 
the  supreme  sky  (the  inner  sky  of  consciousness),  enjoys 
all  objects  of  desire  in  union  with  the  all-knowing 
Brahman} 

\  The  union  is  already  accomplished.  The  para^ 
mdtman,  the  supreme  soul,  has  himself  chosen  this 
soul  of  ours  as  his  bride  and  the  marriage  has  been 
completed.  The  solemn  mantram  has  been  uttered: 
Let  thy  heart  he  even  as  my  heart  is}  There  is  no 
room  in  this  marriage  for  evolution  to  act  the 
part  of  the  master  of  ceremonies.    The  eshah,  who 


*  Satyam  jnanam  anantam  brahma  yo  veda  nihitam  guhayam  parami 
vyoman  so'^nutc  sarvan  kaman  saha  brahmana  vipas^hitc. 
'  Yadetat  hridayam  mama  tadastu  hridayan  tava. 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE  INFINITE    i6i 


cannot  otherwise  be  described  than  as    This,  the 
nameless  immediate  presence,  is  ever  here  in  our 
innermost   being.      "This    eshah,    or    This,    is    the 
supreme  end  of  the  other  this";  ^  "this  This  is  the 
supreme  treasure  of  the  other  this";  ^  "this  This  is 
the  supreme  dwelling  of  the  other  this"; '  "this  This 
is  the  supreme  joy  of  the  other  this."*    Because  the 
marriage  of  supreme  love  has  been  accomplished  in 
timeless  time.     And  now  goes  on  the  endless  Uld, 
the  play  of  love.    He  who  has  been  gained  in  eternity 
is  now  being  pursued  in  time  and  space,  in  joys 
and  sorrows,  in  this  world  and  in  the  worlds  beyond. 
When    the    soul-bride    understands    this    well,    her 
heart  is  blissful  and  at  rest.     She  knows  that  she, 
like  a  river,  has  attained  the  ocean  of  her  fulfilment 
at  one  end  of  her  being,  and  at  the  other  end  she  is 
ever  attaining  it;  at  one  end  it  is  eternal  rest  and 
completion,  at  the  other  it  is  incessant  movement 
and  change.     When  she  knows  both  ends  as  in- 
separably connected,  then  she  knows  the  world  as 
her  own  household  by  the  right  of  knowing  the 
master  of  the  world  as  her  own  lord.    Then  all  her 
services  becomes  services  of  love,  all  the  troubles  and 
tribulations  of  life  come  to  her  as  trials  triumphantly 
borne  to  prove  the  strength  of  her  love,  smilingly  to 
win  the  wager  from  her  lover.    But  so  long  as  she 
remains  obstinately  in  the  dark,  lifts  not  her  veil. 


*  Eshasya  parama  gatlh. 
'  Eshasya  paramo  lokah. 


*  Eshasya  parama  sampat. 
^  Eshasya  parama  anandah. 


l62 


SADHANA 


VIII 


does  not  recognise  her  lover,  and  only  knows  the 
world  dissociated  from  him,  she  serves  as  a  handmaid 
here,  where  by  right  she  might  reign  as  a  queen;  she 
sways  in  doubt,  and  weeps  in  sorrow  and  dejection. 
She  passes  from  starvation  to  starvation^  from  trouble  to 
trouble,  and  from  fear  to  fear} 

I  can  never  forget  that  scrap  of  a  song  I  once 
heard  in  the  early  dawn  in  the  midst  of  the  din  of 
the  crowd  that  had  collected  for  a  festival  the  night 
before:  "Ferryman,  take  me  across  to  the  other 
shore!" 

In  the  bustle  of  all  our  work  there  comes  out 
this  cry,  "Take  me  across."  The  carter  in  India 
sings  while  driving  his  cart,  "Take  me  across." 
The  itinerant  grocer  deals  out  his  goods  to  his 
customers  and  sings,  "Take  me  across." 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  cry?  We  feel  we 
have  not  reached  our  goal;  and  we  know  with  all 
our  striving  and  toiling  we  do  not  come  to  the  end, 
we  do  not  attain  our  object.  Like  a  child  dissatisfied 
with  its  dolls,  our  heart  cries,  "Not  this,  not  this." 
But  what  is  that  other?  Where  is  the  further  shore? 
Is  it  something  else  than  what  we  have?  Is  it 
somewhere  else  than  where  we  are?  Is  it  to  take 
rest  from  all  our  works,  to  be  relieved  from  all  the 
responsibilities  of  life? 

No,  in  the  very  heart  of  our  activities  we  are 
seeking  for  our  end.    We  are  crying  for  the  across, 

*  Daurbhikshit  yati  daurbhiksham  kle^at  klc9am  bhayat  bhayam. 


7 


VIII    REALISATION  OF  THE   INFINITE    163 

even  where  we  stand.  So,  while  our  lips  utter  their 
prayer  to  be  carried  away,  our  busy  hands  are  never 
idle. 

In  truth,  thou  ocean  of  joy,  this  shore  and  the  other 
shore  are  one  and  the  same  in  thee.  When  I  call 
this  my  own,  the  other  lies  estranged;  and  missing 
the  sense  of  that  completeness  which  is  in  me,  my 
heart  incessantly  cries  out  for  the  other.  All  my 
this,  and  that  other,  are  waiting  to  be  completely 
reconciled  in  thy  love. 

This  "I"  of  mine  toils  hard,  day  and  night,  for 
a  home  which  it  knows  as  its  own.  Alas,  there  will 
be  no  end  of  its  sufferings  so  long  as  it  is  not  able 
to  call  this  home  thine.  Till  then  it  will  struggle 
on,  and  its  heart  will  ever  cry,  "Ferryman,  lead  me 
across."  When  this  home  of  mine  is  made  thine, 
that  very  moment  is  it  taken  across,  even  while  its  old 
walls  enclose  it.  This  "I"  is  restless.  It  is  working 
for  a  gain  which  can  never  be  assimilated  with  its 
spirit,  which  it  never  can  hold  and  retain.  In  its 
efforts  to  clasp  in  its  own  arms  that  which  is  for  all, 
it  hurts  others  and  is  hurt  in  its  turn,  and  cries, 
"Lead  me  across."  But  as  soon  as  it  is  able  to  say, 
"All  my  work  is  thine,"  everything  remains  the 
same,  only  it  is  taken  across. 

Where  can  I  meet  thee  unles^^'ia;  thjsjiiefilierjjom^'; 
made  thine?     Where  can  I  j6in'thW  ilhless'  iVthlV* 
my  work  transformed  into:  tliy  :AVC>rkJ"  If:  f-.teave-.  .• 
my  home  I  shall  not  reach  thy  Home;  if  -I  eeas'e  my  • 


* 
•  • « 


•* 


I) 


164 


SADHANA 


VIII 


Work  Lean  noFOf  inin  thee  in  thy  work, — For  thou. 
.  dwellest  In  mc  and  I  "^  th^^^  Thmi  v^jt^innt  rp^  or 

Therefore,  in  the  midst  of  our  home  and  our 
work,  the  prayer  rises,  "Lead  me  across!"  For 
here  rolls  the  sea,  and  even  here  lies  the  other  shore 
waiting  to  be  reached — yes,  here  is  this  everlasting 
present,  not  distant,  not  anywhere  else. 


I 


•  •  • 


»  » 


•  »   •     * 

•  •  •  •  ••  • 


•  •  •  • 

•  •      • 


••• 


»■     •    »^«"  "«•   #•  »•  •••«<  • 
•     •    •,   •••     •••   ••»•«• 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


•   r  •      • 


•  t 

•  •     •        « 

•  •       *       • 


,*   •  «•  •         •  • 

•         •       •        •  • 


TH'«  L'CB^AKf  ^-f- 


*rff 


IBIA   UNIVERSITY   LIBRARIF 

due  on  thp  date  ir^icated  b*^'-   -  or 


D890 


T1P.5 


,f  OLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


0032016638 


,j(H""'|k  ip  m  •"wBi.'jfcjgigii* 


4  /^  C  Jl 


1 


